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THE  HUNCHBACK. 


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IN    ¥IVE    ACTS. 


By  JAMES   SHERIDAN   KNOWLES, 

Author  of  '•  Virginius,"  "  William  Telly'  "  The  Wife,''  etc.,  etc. 


FROM  THE  ORIGINAL  TEXT  AS  FIRST  PRODUCED  AT  THE  THEATRE 

ROYAL,  COVENT  GARDEN,  LONDON,  APRIL  5,  1832 ;  THE  PARK 

THEATRE,  NEW  YORK,  1832  AND  1845 ;   AND  THE  UNION 

SQUARE  THEATRE,  NEW  YORK,  OCTOBER  26,  187i 


AN  ENTIRELY  NEW  ACTING  EDITION. 

(PBESERVING  THE  AUTHOB's  TEXT  ENTIKE.) 


WITH  FULL  STAGE  DIRECTIONS,  ACCURATELY  MARKED — CAST  OF    CHARAC- 
TERS— SYNOPSIS  OF  SCENERY — FULL  DESCRIPTION  OF  COSTUMES,  EX- 
PRESSLY     COMPILED      FOR      THIS       FD'TION— BILL       FOR      PRO- 
GRAMMES—  STORY    OF    THE     PLAY  —  REMARKS — AND 
THOSE  PORTIONS  OF  THE  PLAY  TO  BK  OMITTED  IN 
REPRESENTATION    ACCURATELY     MARKED 
WITH     INVERTED      COMMAS. 


EDITED  BY 

JOHN  M.  KINGDOM, 

AutTiorof  *'Marcorelti,"*'TIie  Fountain  of  Beauty,"  "A  Life's  Vengeance,"  '^Tancred,' 

*'The  High  Road  of  Life,''  "  Which  is  My  Husband .?"  ''The  Old  Ferry 

House,"  ^'Madeline,"  "  Wreck  of  the  Golden  Nary,'' 

"  The  Three  Musketeers,"  etc.,  etc. 


CHICAGO: 
THE  DRAMATIC  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 


COPXBIGHT,  1876,  BY  ROBEBT  M.  DE  WlTT. 


THE    HUNCHBACK. 


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THE    HUNCHBACK.        ,  ^  .,  ' 

SCEXUET.  I  ^-7^» 

(ACCOEDINO  TO  THE  OBiaiNAL  TEXT.)  /f /t/ ^ 


ACT  /.f  Scene  1.— A  Tavern,  The  flats  represent  an  old-fashioned  chamber  of 
heavy  oak  panels,  set  in  the  fourth  grooves.  An  old-fashioned  carved  fireplace,  c. 
Doors  R.  and  l.  8  e.  Chairs  of  a  like  old-fashioned  style  on  either  side  of  the  door, 
L.,  near  which  is  a  table  and  chair,  with  wine  upon  table.  Near  the  door,  b.,  four 
chairs  and  table,  with  wine,  etc. 

Scene  2.— The  Gardens  of  Mastkb  Walter's  House.  The  flits  set  in  the  second 
grooves  represent  perspectively  beautifully  laid  out  flower-beds,  walks,  and  foun- 
tain, with  old-fashioned  house  in  distance. 

Scene  3.— Apartment  in  Master  Walter's  House,  The  flats  set  in  the  fourth 
grooves  represent  one  side  of  the  apartment  with  windows,  hung  with.ricb  curtains 
opening  on  to  the  garden  beyond.  Tables  and  chairs,  with  books,  music,  and  vases 
and  flowers,  etc.,  near  l,.  and  r.  3  e.  ;  everything  giving  the  appearance  of  a  richly- 
furnished  room, 

AC 'J'  J].,  Scene  1.— Apartment  in  Heartwell'b  House.  The  flats  set  in  the 
second  grooves  represent  an  oaken  chamber,  with  portraits  hung  in  the  panels. 

Scene  2.— Gardens  of  Heabi well's  House.  The  flats  set  in  the  fourth  grooves 
represent  terrace  and  fountains,  etc. ;  the  wings,  statuary  trees  and  flowers.  Ar- 
bors R  and  L.  u.  K, 

(Scene  3.— A  Street  Scene. '  The  flit^  set  in  third  grooves  represent  the  exterior  of 
old-fashioned  houses. 

ACT  111.,  Seme  1.— Drawing-room  in  the  Earl  op  Rochdale's  House.  The  flats 
set  in  second  grooves  represent  an  elegantly-furnished  apartment. 

Scene  2.— Apartment  in  Heaktwell's  House.  The  flats  set  in  fourth  grooves  ;  a 
rich  table  with  title  deeds  and  papers  upon  it,  writing  materials,  etc. — placed  to  the 
left  of  the  centre,  near  3  e.  ;  chairs  on  either  side  of  it,  and  chairs  near  r.  3  and  2  E. 
Windows  at  the  back  looking  on  to  gardens  ;  curtains,  and  pictures. 

ACT  IV.,  Scene  1.— A  Room  in  the  Earl  of  Rochdalk's  House.  The  same  as 
Scene  1,  Act  III,,  set  in  second  grooves. 

Scene  2.— Banqueting  Room  in  the  same.  The  flats  set  in  the  fourth  grooves  rep- 
resent one  side  of  a  delicately  painted  and  gilded  apartment ;  an  archway,  c,  hung 
with  rich  curtains.  Doors  b.  and  l.  u.  e.  In  the  panels,  which  the  wings  represent, 
are  hung  portraits ;  a  gilded  table  R.,  with  chairs  to  correspond  near  the  entrances 
on  either  side  of  the  stage  ;  handbell  on  table  ;  writing  materials, 

ACT  v..  Scene  1.— A  Room  in  tlie  Earl  of  Rochdale's  House.  The  same  as 
Scene  1,  Act  III.,  set  in  second  grooves. 

Scene  2.— Julia's  Chamber,  An  elegantly-furnished  apartment,  with  window  C; 
curtains,  etc, ;  chairs  k.  and  l.  of  window.  The  flats  are  placed  in  the  third  grooves. 

Scene  3,— Banqueting  Room  in  the  Earl  of  Rochdale's  House,  Same  as  Scene 
2,  Act  IV.* 


We  will  now  give  the  scenery  as  adopted  at  the  Union  Square  Theatre,  New  York, 

ACT  1.,  Scene  1,— The  Tavern  on  Ludgate  Hill.t  The  flats  in  the  third  grooves 
represent  a  heavily-wainscoted  room,  A  door  l.  ;  near  it  an  old-fashioned  mahog- 
any table  and  two  chairs  ;  door  l.  2  e.  ;  a  liigh  antique  carved  fii'eplace,  r.  u.  e,  ;  a 
door  L.  2  E.,  and  near  it  another  table  and  four  chairs;  a  chair  to  the  left  of  the 
door  l.  2  E. 

*  In  the  ordinary  representations  the  Scene  of  Julia's  chamber  is  omitted,  and 
the  banqueting  room  takes  tlie  place ;  Scenes  2  and  3  being  thus  thrown  into  one. 

t  One  of  the  chief  thoroughfares  of  the  old  City  of  London  as  it  is  at  the  present 
time  In  this  street  and  the  vicinity  were  a  number  of  taverns,  or  coffee  houses,  as 
they  were  frequently  termed,  where  gay  and  gallant  noblemen  and  men  of  fashion, 
wit,  and  learning  assembled,  to  discuss  politics,  literature,  love,  and  scandal,  every- 
thing in  fact,  and  drinking  wine  deeply,  their  revelry  ending  frequently  in  a  duel 
or  a  night  in  the  watch-house.  A  few  of  these  old  places  are  still  in  existence, 
though,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  somewhat  differently  conducted  and  frequented. 


M290069 


4  THE    HUNCHBACK. 

Al  the  end  of  this  scene  the  curtain  fallSt  and  Scene  2,  Act  1.  of  the  original  edition 
forms  Act  II. 

ACT  II.,  Scene  1.— The  Gardens  of  Mastek  Walter's  Country  House.  The  flats, 
set  as  far  back  as  possible,  represent  a  fine  old  mansion  -with  terraces,  etc. ;  a  terrace 
running  across  the  stage  b.  and  l.  v.  b.,  approached  by  a  short  flight  of  steps,  c. ; 
another  flight  of  steps  winds  up  in  a  slanting  direction,  off  the  stage,  l.  d.  k.  ;  the 
wings  on  either  side  represent  flowering  shrubs  and  trees,  with  pedestals  and  mar- 
ble vases  with  flowers  at  each  entrance.  Twining  boughs  of  trees  and  flowers  inter- 
mingled are  suspended  from  above,  forming  a  charming  roof  or  canopy,  and  a  car- 
pet thrown  over  the  stage,  to  represent  a  well  kept  grass  plot. 

Act  III.  of  the  original  version  is  thrown  into  this  scene,  with  which  Act  II.  ends, 
and  Act  III.  begins  with  Act  II.  of  that  version,  the  scene  being  changed  from  an  apart' 
ment  to  a  garden. 

ACT  III,  Sdene  1.— The  Garden  of  Master  Heartwbll's  House,  near  London.  A 
rich  garden  scene  represented  on  the  flats  with  the  wings  to  correspond  ;  statuary 
on  either  side ;  an  arbor,  l.v.e. 

Scene  2  of  the  original  version  is  thrown  into  tJiis  scene,  and  Scene  3  becomes 

Scene  2.— A  Street  in  London,  The  flats  set  in  second  grooves  representing  ex- 
terior of  old-fashioned  houses. 

The  first  scene  of  Act  111.  is  omitted,  and  the  second  scene  changed  from  an  apartment  in 
Heartwell's  house  forms  tJie  opening  scene  of 

ACT  /F.— Library  in  Master  Heartwell's  House.  The  flats  set  in  fourth 
grooves  represent  the  interior  of  library ;  antique  book-cases  and  chairs ;  window, 
c,  and  velvet  curtains.  Table  and  chairs,  c.  of  stage,  opposite  3  e.  An  alcove  in 
a  slanting  direction,  between  1  and  3  e.,  on  each  side  of  the  stage,  through  which 
is  seen  richly  carved  cabinets  ;  chairs,  r.  and  l.  of  each  alcove ;  writing  materials ; 
parchments,  papers,  etc. 

All  the  following  scenes  in  Acts  IV.  and  V.  of  the  original  version  are  thrown  into  one 
scene,  which  forms 

A  CTS  V.  and  F/.— Grand  Saloon  in  the  Earl  of  Rochdale's  House.  The  flats 
set  right  back  represent  a  handsome  picture  gallery.  In  the  fourth  grooves  one  side 
of  the  room  with  a  large  archway,  c,  hung  with  rich  velvet  curtains,  and  gold  fringe 
and  cords  to  draw  up  ;  two  chairs,  r.,  chair  and  couch,  l.  ;  rich  cabinets,  near  r.  and  L. 
3  E.  An  entrance,  hung  with  curtains  to  gallery,  x..  2  e.  ;  a  door,  B.,  2  £.,  near  which 
is  a  richly  gilded  table  and  three  chairs. 


COSTUMES, 


Master  "Walter.— A  black  Old  English  velvet  doublet  slashed  with  black  satin; 
black  mantle ;  black  cap  and  plume ;  hunched  shoulders ;  black  trunks  and  silk 
stockings ;  shoes  and  bows ;  sword  and  cane. 

Sib  Thomas  Clifford.— A  puce  silk  doublet  richly  slashed  with  crimson,  with  the 
front  loose,  showing  rich  lawn  shirt  with  handsome  lace  collar :  a  dark  velvet 
mantle  liued  with  satin ;  dark  trunks  trimmed  with  lace  at  the  ends ;  russet 
boots ;  blue  velvet  hat,  looped  up  with  diamonds  and  button  and  feathers ;  ruf- 
fles of  lace  ;  and  handsome  sword.  Seco7id  dress ;  dark  velvet  doublet  oi)en  at 
bosom,  exposing  shirt,  lace  ruflfles  and  collar  ;  black  silk  stockings ;  shoes  ;  and 
rosettes. 

Modus.— Brown  velvet  doublet,  and  puce  colored  silk  trimmings  ;  black  trunks ; 
silk  stockings  and  shoes ;  lace  collar. 

Lord  Tinsel.— A  beautiful  rich  green  silk  doublet  and  trunks,  with  lace  ruffles  and 
collar;  shirt,  etc  ;  white  silk  stockings  ;  shoes  and  rosettes ;  buflP  hat  and  white 
sweeping  feathers. 

Fathom.— Dark  brown  doublet,  open  at  breast  to  show  shirt ;  trunks  braided ;  white 
collar ;  black  stockings  and  shoes ;  auburn  wig. 

Master  Wilpord.— Isi  Dress  :  Dark  colored  doublet  of  velvet,  and  mantle  lined 
with  white  silk  *,  lace  ruffles  and  collar ;  black  silk  trunks,  etc. ;  shoes  and  bows; 


THE    HUNCHBACK.  5 

hat  and  feathers.  2d  Dress  :  Dark-blue  silk  doublet  open ;  with  lace  ruffles  and 
collar  ;  dark  velyet  pantaloons  ;  silk  stockings ;  russet  boots ;  rich  hat  and  feath- 
ers :  mantle  lined  with  crimson  silk  ;  sometimes  it  is  dressed  thus,  when  he  is 

LoBD  Rochdale.— Scarlet  satin  mantle,  lined  with  white  silk  ;  doublet  of  like  color, 
slashed  with  white  and  scarlet ;  trunks ;  white  silk  stockings ;  shoes,  etc ;  buff 
hat  and  feathers. 

Gaxlovi:.— Similar  dress  to  WiiiFOBD's,  but  of  crimson,  slashed  with  white  ;  silk 
stocking.s  ;  shoes ;  white  hat  and  feathers,  and  sword. 

Thomas.— Gray,  oi)en  doublet,  of  cloth,  and  trunks  braided  ;  white  collar;  black 
wig ;  black  stockings,  and  shoes. 

Master  Heartwell.  — Black  velvet  doublet,  and  lace  ruffles;  trunks  with  laced 
bottoms ;  lace  collar ;  gray  hat  and  feathers ;  dark  brown  silk  stockings,  and 
shoes  with  rosettes  ;  stick  and  sword. 

Stephen.  -  Chocolate  colored  doublet  and  trunks  bound  with  velvet ;  purple  stock- 
iuga,  and  shoes ;  lace  collar  and  ruffles ;  plain  black  hat  and  white  handkerchief. 

HoLDWELL  —A  similar  dress,  with  the  colors,  varied  to  the  first  dress  of  Masteb 

WlLFOBD. 

Simpson.— A  similar  dress 

"Waiter.— Black  doublet;  trunks,  stockings,  and  shoes  ;  white  apron. 

Servant.— Plain  gray  doublet,  and  trunks,  with  dark  blue  stockings,  and  shoes ; 
white  collar. 

Julia.— Is/  Dress  :  White  muslin  dress  trimmed  with  lace  ;  broad  hat  and  bhie  rib- 
bons. 2d  Dress :  Light  blue  satin  gown,  with  bodice  and  lace  trimmings ;  broad 
hat  and  rich  feathers.  Sd  Dress :  White  satin  bridal  dress  and  train  ;  long 
sleeves  richly  trimmed  with  lace ;  pearl  necklace ;  white  satin  shoes. 

Helen.— 1*<  Dress :  White  muslin  trimmed  with  pink  silk  or  satin ;  hat  and  feath- 
ers ;  rich  fan.  2d  Dress :  Rich  blue  silk  dress,  with  muslin  body  and  satin  train 
of  any  light  and  bright  color  ;  ruff ;  fan,  etc. 


PROPERTIES. 


FOE  THE   OEIOINAL  VEESION. 

ACT /.,  Scene  1.— Two  circular  old-fashioned  tables,  and  half  a  dozen  chairs  to  cor- 
respond ;  wine  bottles  and  goblets.  Scene  3.— Two  antique  carved  and  gilded 
tables  ;  chairs  to  match  ;  books,  music,  and  vases  with  flowers ;  letter. 

A  CT II.,  Scene  1.— Bell.  Scene  2.  —Vases  and  pedestals  and  pieces  of  statuary.  Scene 
3.— Several  letters  for  Stephen. 

ACT  11/.,  Scene  1.— Scroll  of  paper  for  petition.  Scene  2.— A  richly-gilded  antique 
table  ;  parchment  deeds,  papers,  and  writing  materials ;  chairs  to  correspond 
with  table  ;  pictures ;  letter  for  Julia  to  sign  ;  parchments  and  letter  for  Mas- 
ter Walter  ;  letter  for  Thomas. 

ACTl  v.,  Scene  1.— Book  for  Modus.  Scene  2.— Richly-gilded  table  and  chairs ;  let- 
ter for  Clifford  ;  hand-bell. 

ACT  v..  Scene  1.— Book  for  Modus.  Scene  2.— Peal  of  bells;  rich  jewel  case  and 
jewels ;  light  gilded  chamber  chairs.  Scene  3.— Gilded  table  and  chairs ;  carpet, 
etc. ;  parchment. 

UNION   SaUAEE  VEBSION. 

-«4Cr/.,  5c«n«  1.— Same  as  above. 

ACT  JL,  Scene  1— Statuary,  pedestals,  and  vases  with  flowers  ;  carpet  to  represent 
grass  over  the  entire  stage ;  letter  for  Fathom. 

ACT  III,  Scene  1. — Statuary,  pedestals,  and  vases ;  bell.  Scene  2.— Several  letters 
for  Stephen. 

ACT  IV.,  Scene  1.— Antique  bookcases  and  chairs,  with  a  table  of  the  same  kind;, 
cabinets  to  be  seen  through  alcoves ;  writing  materials ;  papers ;  parchment 
deeds  and  letters  for  Master  Walter  ;  paper  for  Julia  to  sign ;  letter  for 
Thomas. 


6 


THE    HUNCHBA-CK. 


ACTS  V.  and  r/.— Richly-gilded  table,  and  chairs  to  correspond  ;  couch;  cabinets, 
▼ith  articles  of  virtu ;  letter  for  Cliffokd  :  book  for  Modus  ;  writing  materials ; 
parchment. 


STOET  OF  TEE  PLAY. 

Of  all  the  members  of  the  leading  rank  of  English  nobility  some  few  centuries 
ago,  there  were  very  few  who  could  surpass,  or  even  equal,  the  owner  of  the  title  and 
estates  of  the  Earldom  of  Rochdale.    As  the  author  says : 

"  A  lord  of  many  lands  1 
In  Berkshire  half  a  county :  and  the  same 
In  Wilkshire,  and  in  Lancashire.    Across 
The  Irish  Sea  a  principality. 
And  not  a  rood  with  bond  or  lien  on  it !" 

These  large  estates,  and  the  large  revenues  accruing  therefrom,  necessarily 
required  an  educated,  keen,  and  careful  manager  or  agent,  and  this  was  found  in  a 
presumed  distant  relative  of  the  family,  one  Master  Walter,  to  whom  the  Earl  en- 
trusted the  entire  control  of  hia  large  domains.  He  was  a  singular  man,  was  Master 
"Walter ;  he  was  in  his  demeanor  somewhat  reserved,  aud  yet  withal,  there  was  in 
his  manner  and  action  a  genial  kindness?,  and  a  true,  outspoken  honesty.  In  every 
respect  he  was  a  worthy  man,  whose  word  would  paas  on  'change  as  easily  as  his  bond, 
so  good  was  his  repute  from  years  of  tried  experience  and  in  all  respects  a  man  of 
liberality ;  no  scheme  of  public  good  was  ever  put  forward  in  his  neighborhood, 
but  it  was  supported  by  his  own  contributions  to  a  larger  extent  than  those  of  any 
other  i)erson,  in  addition  to  that  which  he  was  enabled,  and  authorized  to  draw 
from  his  master's  revenues.  Retiring  in  his  habits  and  assuming  no  prominent  posi- 
tion beyond  that  which  his  place  in  society  actually  required,  it  was  well  known 
there  were  many  acts  of  charity  performed  which  could  only  emanate  from  him, 
though  outward  signs  could  not  trace  the  authorship.  Marrying  young,  he  antici- 
pated a  life  of  happiness,  only,  however,  doomed  to  disappointment,  for  in  giving 
birth  to  a  daughter,  his  wife's  life  was  forfeited.  It  was  then  that  he  felt  come  upon 
him  the  great  drawback  of  deformity  in  his  personal  appearance— he  was  a  hunch- 
back !— and  in  losing  one  who  had  considered  that  no  detriment  to  his  mental  quali- 
fications, he  felt  himself  isolated  in  the  world,  and  he  determined  still  further  to 
isolate  himself,  and  bring  up  his  daughter  in  ignorance  of  her  true  relationship,  so 
that  on  such  account  she  should  not  be  wanting  in  filial  aflfection  Thus  years  passed 
on,  and  beneath  his  tender,  fostering  care  the  infant  Julia  progressed  to  woman- 
hood, with  all  the  charms  that  nature  could  bestow,  and  mental  cultivation  enhance. 

It  so  happened  that  time,  however,  wrought  a  great  change.  The  Earl's  son  was 
stricken  down  with  a  fatal  malady,  and  he  was  himself  seized  with  a  like  disease,  to 
which  he  speedily  succumbed.  In  consequence  of  this,  the  titles  and  estates  devolved 
upon  one  Master  Wilford,  a  very  distant  relative,  a  cousin  in  the  third  degree,  a  gay, 
reckless  gallant,  who,  though  the  son  of  a  gentleman,  had  been  hitherto  unnoticed 
by  his  wealthy  relative,  and  had  been  glad  to  enjoy  the  scanty  revenues  of  a  scriven- 
er's cierk,  at  that  time,  however,  no  very  mean  occupation,  and  to  pass  his  time  in 
gayety  and  pleasure,  his  boon  companions  youthful  noblemen,  as  handsomely  equip- 
ped and  reckless  as  himself —whose  evenings  were  spent  in  the  taverns  of  the  city  of 
London,  at  the  period  of  the  play  the  nightly  resort  of  wealthy  profligacy,  wit,  and 
learning.  It  is  with  such  a  scene  as  this,  when  Master  Walter  arrives  to  search  out 
the  successor  to  the  title  and  estates  of  his  deceased  master,  that  the  play  commences. 
Surrounded  by  gentlemen,  to  whom  Master  Wilford  has  revealed  the  great  pros- 
pects awaiting  him,  and  who  do  not  fail  to  blend  their  congratulations  with  copious 
draughts  of  wine,  the  hunchback  meets  with  a  boisterous  reception,  and  bis  stem 
rebuke  upon  the  levity  exhibited  at  the  receipt  of  the  intelligence  he  brings  of  Lord 
Rochdale's  death,  and  the  consequent  accession  of  Master  Wilford  to  the  title  and 
estates,  calls  forth  from  Gaylove,  one  of  the  gallants  present,  an  insulting  allusion  to 
bis  deformity.    Calm  as  he  usually  Is,  this  personal  attack  is  too  much  to  bear,  and 


THE   HUJSCHBACK.  / 

swords  are  drawn,  but  one  Sir  Thomas  Clifford,  a  youthful  baronet,  who  happens  to 
be  present,  takes  the  quarrel  upon  himself,  and  by  his  honest,  gallant  bearing,  so 
stems  the  torrent  of  the  uncalled  for  attack,  that  the  offender  and  his  party  quit  the 
tavern,  possibly  for  further  brawls,  leaving,  however,  the  hunchback  and  his  com- 
panion alone.  They  recognize  each  other  ;  Sir  Thomas  Clifford,  from  the  stories  he 
has  heard  of  the  agent's  good  qualities,  and  Master  Walter,  from  a  clerk  in  his  em- 
ploy, who  had  once  been  in  the  service  of  Clifford's  father.  The  hunchback,  with  his 
usual  keenness,  at  once  perceives  there  is  a  chance  for  a  fitting  husband  for  his  daugh- 
ter ;  he  knows  Sir  Thomas,  as  he  tells  him,  to  have  been  trained  to  knowledge,  indus- 
try, frugality,  and  honesty,  and  sounding  him  well,  finds  that  he  does  not  live  beyond 
his  means,  and  neither  bets  nor  races,  and  furthermore,  that  he  has  no  mistress  for 
his  house.  In  glowing  language,  he  describes  the  charms  of  Julia,  and  ends  with  an 
invitation  to  visit  her,  observing  with  marked  meaning  : 

"  You'll  bless  the  day  you  served  the  Hunchback,  sir  I" 

Julia  has  been  brought  up  in  the  country  entirely,  under  the  watchful  eye  of  Mas- 
ter Walter,  whom  she  looks  upon  as  her  guardian,  and  for  whom  she  feels  and  ex- 
presses the  deepest  affection.  Beyond  the  rural  life,  which  she  is  lead  to  believe  has 
been  enjoined  by  her  unknown  father  for  some  family  reason,  she  sees  not  any  at- 
traction, and  even  the  vivid  picture  of  gayety  and  pleasure  which  her  companion 
Helen  describes  of  city  life,  fails  to  have  any  effect.  To  her  the  only  true  happiness 
of  life  is  to  be  found  in  the  country ;  the  principles  being  firmly  impressed  in  her 
mind  by  Master  Walter— 

'*  Nine  times  in  ten  the  town's  a  hollow  thing, 
Where  what  things  ai'e  is  naught  to  what  they  show ; 
Where  merit's  name  laughs  merit's  self  to  scorn ! 
Where  friendship  and  esteem,  that  ought  to  be 
The  tenants  of  men's  hearts,  lodge  in  their  looks 
And  tongues  alone." 

In  one  of  the  sweetest  speeches  ever  written  she  describes  the  love  and  kindness 
exhibited  towards  her  from  childhood  upwards  by  the  hunchback;  but  the  glowing 
scene  is  interrupted  by  his  arrival  with  Sir  Thomas,  whose  unexpected  visit  naturally 
excites  the  keenest  curiosity.  Clifford  is  not  long  before  he  peiceives  the  great  at- 
tractions of  his  host's  ward,  and  he  takes  a  very  early  opportunity  of  declaring  his 
pa.ssion.  This  scene  is  an  exceedingly  pretty  one,  and  most  admirably  constructed. 
She  is  pleased  with  his  handsome,  gallant,  and  manly  bearing,  but  determines  to  try 
him  by  insisting  that  whoever  marries  her  must  lead  a  country  life.  But  to  all  this 
Clifford  is  attached— smiles  without  deceit ;  peace  and  contentment ;  the  observance 
of  nature,  winter  or  summer  ;  the  fireside  on  a  winter's  night ;  all  this  has  charms 
which  those  in  cities  fail  to  find;  and,  warmly  supporting  her  views,  he  again  offers 
his  hand  and  fortune.  The  new-made  lovers  are,  however,  abruptly  interrupted  by 
the  sudden  entry  of  Master  Walter,  who  receives  intelligence  that  a  written  packet 
to  be  given  only  to  him  has  been  found  in  the  deceased  Earl's  escritoire,  which  neces- 
sitates a  journey  to  London,  whither  he  determines  to  take  Julia  and  her  companion 
Helen. 

The  allurements  of  the  city  prove  too  strong  for  the  country-bred  girl,  and  in  the 
ensuing  scene  there  is  an  admirably -written  description  of  the  change  which  has  taken 
place.  In  the  country,  five  and  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  saw  Julia  rising  from  her 
couch,  but  now  those  hours  see  her  frequently  retiring ;  and  Master  Walter  is 
astounded  when  he  receives  from  his  friend  Heartwell,  at  whose  house  she  is  staying, 
the  astonishing  intelligence— 

*'  Your  country  maid  has  wilted  all  away, 
And  plays  the  city  lady  to  the  height ; 
Her  mornings  gives  to  mercers,  milliners, 
Shoemakers  jewellers,  and  haberdashers  ; 
Her  noons,  to  calls  ;  her  afternoons,  to  dressing ; 
Evenings,  to  plays  or  cards  ;  and  nights,  to  routs, 
Balls,  masquerades  1     Sleep  only  ends  the  riot, 
"Which  waking  still  begins !  " 


8 


THE    HUNCHBACK. 


ClifTord  is  naturally  alarmed  at  this  sudden  and  unanticipated  change.  He  fondly 
and  mildly  remonstrates,  hut  all  in  vain ;  the  wayward,  fiery  spirit  has  hroken 
forth,  and  the  hitherto  unthwarted  will  can  hrook  no  control.  The  wedding  has 
been  fixed,  indeed,  it  is  only  a  week  oflf,  and  its  near  approach  affords  an  opportunity 
for  a  very  fine  scene,  wherein  Julia  describes  to  Helen  the  grand  position  she  will 
occupy  as  Lady  Clifford— carriages,  retinue,  dresses,  jewelry,  every  luxury,  in  fact, 
that  wealth  can  obtain.  But  she  is  overheard  by  Clifford,  who,  in  a  sweetly-written 
speech,  reproaches  her  for  her  vanity  and  lack  of  love  for  himself,  and  acquaints  her 
with  bis  resolve— 

"  The  day  that  weds,  wives  you  to  be  widowed. 
*****       be  Lady  Clifford  ! 
My  coffers,  lands,  are  all  at  thy  command ; 
"Wear  all !  but  for  myself,  she  wears  not  me, 
Who  would  not  wear  me  for  myself  alone. 
I'll  lead  thee  to  the  church  on  Monday  week ; 
Till  then  farewell !  and  then— farewell  forever !  " 

A  sad  change  now  comes  over  the  scene.  Clifford  succeeded  to  the  baronetcy  and 
estates  upon  the  presumption  that  a  cousin,  who  stood  before  him,  had  died  at  sea  ; 
but  intelligence  now  arrives  that  such  was  not  the  case,  that  he  was  saved,  and  has 
returned ;  consequently,  rank  and  wealth  pass  away,  and  Clifford  is  now  all  but  a 
beggar. 

He  acquaints  Master  Walter  with  the  tidings ;  but  in  him  it  works  no  difference 
outwardly  ;  he  has  studied  closely  the  merits  of  his  intended  son-in-law,  and  he  per- 
ceives and  recognizes  his  worth  in  poverty  as  in  prosperity.  The  difficulty  is  how  to 
deal  with  his  daughter,  to  strike  the  gay  and  high-flown  city  notions  from  her  mind, 
and  bring  back  again  the  purity  of  country  life  and  the  principles  of  true  love,  for 
that  she  loves  Clifford  he  is  convinced  ;  it  is  a  proud  spirit  that  will  not  brook  any 
guidance  or  control  which  prevents  her  acknowledging  it  and  yielding.  That  this  ia 
the  ease  is  shown  in  a  very  spirited  scene  indeed,  wherein  Helen,  with  an  immensity 
of  gay  and  sparkling  maliciousness,  assisted  by  her  quiet,  bookworm  cousin,  Modus, 
and  acting  upon  the  instructions  of  Master  Walter,  informs  Julia  of  Clifford's  fall, 
and  tells  her  how  they  will  tease  and  worry  him,  and  what  delightful  pleasure  it  will 
be  to  call  him  plain  "  Master  "  Clifford,  instead  of  "  Sir  Thomas  " ;  which  calls  forth 
frequent  bursts  of  anger  from  Julia,  showing,  though  she  will  not  admit  it,  that 
her  entire  love  is  his. 

Master  Walter's  plans  prosper.  The  new  Earl  of  Rochdale,  enchanted  by  the 
beauty  of  Julia,  offers  her  his  hand  and  title,  which  she  declines ;  but,  upon  the  rup- 
ture with  Clifford,  he  makes  a  second  offer,  and  entrusts  it  to  Master  Walter,  who 
acts  as  agent  to  him  as  he  did  to  the  deceased  Earl,  for  delivery.  This  affords  inci- 
dents for  one  of  the  finest  scenes  in  the  play.  Now  that  Clifford  is  i)Oor  Julia  feela 
her  love  return  stronger  than  ever ;  but  her  pride  is  in  the  way  ;  she  will  not  ac- 
knowledge her  faults,  and  he  will  not  seek  her.  In  her  angry  pettishness  she  avows 
her  hate  for  him,  and  Master  Walter,  seizing  the  opportunity,  informs  her  of  Lord 
Rochdale's  second  offer,  descants  upon  his  high  position  and  large  estates,  and  urges 
her,  out  of  revenge,  to  accept  his  proposal,  placing  the  letter  before  her : 

"  Write  thy  own  name. 
And  show  how  near  akin  thy  hate's  to  hate." 

She  does  sign ;  and  when  it  is  too  late  bitterly  bemoans  her  hasty  act.  The 
step  cannot,  however,  be  retraced,  and,  accompanied  by  her  guardian,  Helen,  and 
her  cousin,  she  proceeds  to  the  Earl's  country  seat. 

Upon  their  arrival  there,  one  of  the  most  amusing  and  brilliant  comedy  scenes  ever 
written  ensues  between  the  gay  and  vivacious  Helen,  who  is  really  deeply  in  love 
with  her  cousin  Modus,  but  whom  she  is  unable  to  draw  put  of  a  quiet,  sleepy, 
dreamy  sort  of  way,  constantly  studying  Greek  and  Latin  books,  more  especially 
"  Ovid's  Art  of  Love." 

Pursuing  the  plan  he  has  formed.  Master  Walter  never  ceases  to  speak  of  his 
wealth  and  position;  but  he  does  not  fail  to  see  the  old  love  still  remains  finn. 


THE  hu:nckback.  9 

He  tells  her  a  sweetly-written  story  (which  is,  however,  much  curtailed  in  rep- 
resentation, why,  I  know  not)  of  a  princess  and  a  page,  who  is  seized  and  confined  in 
a  dungeon  upon  her  father  discovering  their  love ;  but  at  night  another  page  appears ; 
it  is  the  princess  in  disguise ;  the  door  flies  open  ;  a  steed  is  ready  to  bear  them  both 
away  to  liberty.     Enraptured  with  the  tale  Julia  exclaims  : 

"  Oh  !  happy  princess,  that  had  wealth  and  state, 
To  lay  them  down  for  love !  " 

and  in  the  most  glowing  terms  reveals  how  strongly  the  sentiment  reigns  within  her 
breast. 

At  this  moment  a  servant  announces  that  the  Earl,  who  is  absent,  has  sent  his  sec- 
retary with  a  letter,  which  he  is  waiting  to  deliver.  Master  Walter,  considering  it 
to  be  a  private  communication,  withdraws,  reminding  her  that  the  morrow  sees  her  a 
^redded  bride.  The  secretary  is  ushered  in,  and  as  he  announces  his  errand  in  low 
and  humble  tones,  they  strike  upon  her  ear  as  those  to  which  she  has  been  accus- 
tomed ;  her  courage  fails ;  she  suspects,  but  dare  not  satisfy  her  anxiety ;  at  last> 
summoning  up  all  her  strength,  she  turns  and  takes  the  letter.  It  is  Clifford— 
plainly  clad— yet  as  handsome  and  as  noble  as  ever.  In  brilliantly  written  language 
he  alludes  to  the  past,  but  she  nerves  herself  to  the  task  of  preserving  her  position  aa 
the  promised  bride  of  another ;  yet  when  he  kneels  and  implores  her  pardon,  true- 
love  breaks  forth,  and  she  throws  herself  into  his  arms  upon  his  assurance  that  the 
nuptials  can  be  avoided  with  honor. 

These  blissful  moments  are,  however,  interrupted,  by  the  return  of  Master  Walter, 
who,  recognizing  the  secretary,  orders  his  immediate  withdrawal,  at  the  same  time 
artfully  and  purposely  turning  away— giving  them  time  for  further  converse,  and 
affording  an  opportunity  to  Clifford  to  declare  to  Julia— 

"  The  ring  that  goes  thy  wedding  finger  on, 
No  hand  save  mine  shall  place  there  !" 

The  marriage  morn  approaches,  and  the  meeting  of  Master  Walter  and  Julia 
brings  forth  an  explanation.  It  is  a  magnificently  constructed  scene,  and  the  lan- 
gu  li^'e  of  the  finest  and  most  telling  kind.  He  traces  her  career  from  childhood  up- 
wards :  her  youth  being  passed  in  privacy  as  her  father  willed  ;  his  selection  of  a 
fitting  partner ;  her  love  lor  him,  and  acceptance;  their  journey  to  town  ;  and  her 
sudden  change.  In  vain  she  appeals  for  pardon,  and  knplores  him  to  prevent  the 
match ;  kindly,  but  firmly,  he  reminds  her  of  her  promise  ;  her  honor  is  at  stake,  and 
she  must  nerve  herself  for  the  trying  ordeal. 

Lord  Rochdale  and  the  guests  arrive,  and  as  a  last  chance,  Julia  avows  her  love 
for  Clifford,  and  implores  to  be  freed  from  her  promise.  A  refusal  follows— Clifford 
beseeches  her  not  to  give  her  hand ;  she  hesitates ;  when  the  hunchback  reminds  her 
that  she  has  a  father.    With  vehement  energy  she  exclaims : 

"  Bring  him  now— 
To  see  thy  Julia  justify  thy  training. 
And  lay  her  lite  down  to  redeem  her  word  !  " 

Struck  with  admiration,  he  gazes  upon  her  tor  a  moment,  then  demands  of  the 
Earl  if  it  is  his  wish  the  nuptials  should  go  on,  and  being  answered  in  the  affirma- 
tive, exclaims : 

'*  Then  it  is  mine  they  stop  !" 

Then  comes  the  astounding  revealation  that  the  hunchback's  father,  a  former  Earl 
of  Rochdale,  disgusted  with  his  son's  deformity,  had  placed  him  away  when  an  in- 
fant, and  had  left  behind  him  a  written  testament  only  to  be  opened  in  case  his  heir 
(his  younger  brother)  should  die  without  a  son.  His  heir  and  son  had  both  died,  and 
consequently  Master  Walter  now  becomes  Earl  of  Rochdale.  Amazed  and  bewildered 
as  they  are,  the  company  are  still  more  so,  when  he  proclaims  Julia  to  be  his  daugh- 
ter, explaining  the  motives  for  the  concealment,  and  placing  her  hand  in  Clifford's, 
fully  realizes  the  prophecy  that  he  would  bless  the  day  he  served  the  Hunchback  ! 


10  THE    HUNCHBACK. 


REMARKS. 

■  Of  the  numerous  plays  written  by  James  Sheridan  Knowles,  few  have  been  more 
popular  than  the  present  one ;  indeed,  with  the  exception  of  "  Virginius  "  (which  the 
celebrated  tragedian,  Mr.  Macready,  considered  the  finest), "  William  Tell,"  "  The 
Wife,"  "  The  Love  Chase,"  and  "  The  Hunchback,"  his  pro-Juctions  achieved  a  very 
moderate  success,  and,  after  a  brief  career,  have  past  into  oblivion. 

Whilst  but  a  youth  he  exhibited  a  stjong  predilection  for  the  drama,  by  writing, 
at  sixteen  years  of  age,  a  five-act  tragedy  entitled  "The  Spanish  Story,"  a  piece  of 
very  fair  average  merit.  This  was  followed  by  "  Hersilia,"  and  "The  Gypsy,"  which 
was  acted  at  Waterford,  in  Ireland,  the  celebrated  tragedian,  Edmund  Kean  (with 
whom  the  author  was  performing ;  both  then  unknown  to  fame),  playing  the  hero. 
Then  came  a  melo-drama,  entitled  "  Brian  Boroighme,"  founded  upon  the  history 
of  an  Irish  prince  of  that  name,  who,  many  centuries  ago,  defeated  the  Danes  at 
Clontarf,  Ireland,  in  a  very  sanguinary  battle.  Mrs.  Knowles  represented  the  hero- 
ine, Kean  the  hero,  and  the  author  (who  was  first  singer  at  the  theatre,  which  shows 
the  versatility  of  his  talent),  the  high  priest.  After  this  came  a  highly  classical  play, 
called  "  Caius  Gracchus,"  followed  by  his  great  Roman  play,  "Virginius,"  which 
was  produced  at  Glasgow,  Scotland  in  April,  1820,  and  with  which  Mr.  Macready 
was  so  liighly  pleased  that  he  secured  its  production  in  London  immediately  after, 
ward,  and  made  the  leading  character  one  of  the  greatest  of  his  successes.  Then 
came  his  fine  play  of  "  William  Tell,"  in  which  Mr.  Macready  made  another  hit ; 
and  which  also  proved  very  successful  in  Ireland,  where  the  author  made  a  long 
professional  tour,  not  altogether  a  very  satisfactory  one,  more  especially  in  his  birth- 
place, the  City  of  Cork,  where  he  met  with  such  a  tame  reception,  more  particularly 
in  a  i)ecuniarv  sense,  upon  the  night  of  his  benefit  that  he  observed  to  a  friend :  "My 
plays  are  too  liberal  for  the  aristocratic  illiberals  of  Ireland— they  breathe  the  noble 
sentiments  of  liberty,  and  such  are  not  the  sentiments  of  the  influential  classes  in 
Ireland.  I  do  not  regret  the  creation  of  those  sentiments  I  am  going  to  a  place 
where  the  feelings  and  reality  of  liberty  exist  in  their  most  glowing  forms— and  not 
the  form  alone,  but  the  embodied  spirit.    I  am  going  to  America."* 

After  "  William  Tell "  came  "  The  Beggar's  Daughter  of  Bethnal  Green,"  founded 
upon  a  ballad  in  Percy's  "  Reliques  of  Ancient  Poetry,"  a  drama  of  faulty  construc- 
tion, and  which  proved  a  failure.  It  was  followed  by  another  work,  "  Alfred  the 
Great";  but,  although  it  had  the  powerful  support  of  Macready  in  the  principal 
character,  its  success  was  only  temporary.  We  now  come  to  the  present  play  ;  with 
respect  to  which  it  is  best  to  give  the  author's  introduction  to  the  first  edition,  pub- 
lished in  1832 : 

"  This  comedy  owes  its  existence  to  the  failure  of  '  The  Beggar's  Daughter  of 
Bethnal  Green,'  which  was  produced  under  the  most  unfavorable  circumstances,  and 
in  the  unavoidable  absence  of  the  author.  I  did  not  like  to  be  baffled,  especially,  as 
I  thought,  without  good  reason  ;  and,  cheered  by  the  generous,  enthusiastic  advoca- 
cy of  the  Atlast  (a  perfect  stranger  to  me),  I  set  to  work  upon  '  The  Hunchback.' 

"  My  friend,  Mr.  Macready,!  who  was  very  angry  with  me  for  again  attempting  a 
walk  in  which  I  had  failed— and  who  came  to  Glasgow  solely,  I  believe,  for  the  ob- 
ject of  expostulating  with  me,— was  the  first  to  encourage  me  to  proceed.  I  had  com- 
pleted my  first  act.    I  read  it  to  him,  and  he  told  me  to  go  on.    This  I  thought  the 

*  This  was  in  1825,  but  he  did  not  leave  England  for  the  United  States  until  July, 
1834 

t  The  title  of  one  of  the  leading  newspapers  published  in  London  at  that  period. 

t  Although  the  author  alludes  thus  to  Macready.  wlio  was  his  greatest  friend  and 
atoiirer,  and  had  been  the  means  of  introducing  him  so  prominently  to  the  public  by 
effecting  the  production  of  "Virginius"  in  London,  it  is  curious  to  note  that  in  the 
Reminiscences  of  that  eminent  tragedian  there  is  not  the  slightest  allusion  to  this 
subject.  The  only  times  he  refers  to  this  play  are  on  August  20,  1832  :  '  Went  to 
Haymarket  to  see  'The  Hunchback '—a  beautiful  play  very  indifferently  acted"; 
and  on  the  following  day,  August  21 :  "  Wrote  criticism  on  '  The  Hunchback  *  "  ; 
but  fbe  >rhjr  or  the  wherefore  does  not  appear. 


THE    HUNCHBACK.  11 

happiest  ot  omens,  for  many  a  proof  had  he  given  me  of  his  admirable  judgment  in 
such  things.    This  happened  about  two  years  ago. 

"  It  was  not,  however,  until  the  latter  end  of  the  summer  of  1831  that  I  had  lei- 
sure to  proceed  with  my  work.  I  recommenced  it  in  the  pleasant  walks  about  Bir- 
mingham, and  completed  it  on  the  sands  of  Newbaven— my  roomy  study  ;  where,  at 
the  same  time,  I  remodelled  '  Alfred.'  I  brought  both  plays  up  to  town  with  me  in 
April  laat. 

"  '  The  Hunchback '  was  read  to  Mr.  Lee,  and  instantly  accepted  by  that  gentle- 
man, who,  without  hesitation,  granted  me  teims  even  more  advantageous  than  those 
which  I  required  for  it  from  Covent  Garden,  and  to  whose  polite  and  liberal  deport- 
ment towards  me,  during  his  brief,  divided  reign  of  management,  I  joyfully  take 
this  opportunity  of  bearing  testimony.  The  play,  however,  was  defective  in  the 
under-plot,  which  was  perfectly  distinct  from  the  main  one.  This  error  Mr.  Mac- 
ready  pointed  out  to  me— as  did  subsequently  Mr.  Morton,  in  an  elaborate  critique 
as  full  of  kindness  as  of  discrimination.  My  avocations,  however,  did  not  leave  me 
at  liberty  to  revise  my  work  till  about  two  months  ago,  when  1  constructed  my 
under-plot  anew  ;  and,  having  done  my  best  to  obviate  objections,  presented  '  The 
Hunchback'  to  Drury  Lane,  from  which  establishment  I  subsequently  withdrew  it, 
because  it  was  not  treated  with  the  attention  whica  1  thought  it  merited." 

Upon  this  withdrawal,  the  author  took  his  play  to  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  and 
was  so  warmly  received  by  the  management  that  he  very  soon,  to  quote  his  own 
words,  "found  a  home  indeed,  and  among  friends." 

In  little  more  than  a  fortnight  the  play  was  ready,  improved  and  strengthened 
by  curtailment  and  condensation,  kindly  and  judiciously  suggested  by  experienced 
and  practical  friends,  and  warmly  and  gratefully  accepted.  Its  first  representation 
was  a  great  success,  owing  much  (apart  from  the  intrinsic  merits)  to  the  fine  per- 
formances of  Miss  Fanny  Kemble.  It  subsequently  had  the  advantage  of  the  still 
finer  actin;?  of  Miss  Ellen  Tree  (afterwards  Mrs.  Charles  Kean). 

The  success  of  the  play  in  London  soon  caused  its  production  in  America,  and  a 
piece  so  brilliantly  popular  both  before  and  behind  the  curtain,  was  first  produced  at 
the  Park  Theati-e,  New  York,  June  10,  1832,  with  the  cast  mentioned  at  the  com- 
mencement. It  was  also  produced  the  same  night  at  the  Richmond  Hill  Theatre, 
with  Mr.  Hilson  as  Master  Walter ;  Mr.  Clarke  as  Sir  Thomas  Clifford;  Mi's.  Barnes 
as  Julia  ;  and  Mrs.  Hilson  as  Helen  ;  a  quartette  in  pointof  merit  more  than  a  match 
for  the  Park  comjjetilors,  but  there,  however,  the  subordinate  characters  were  much 
superior,  and  Mr.  H  Placide  especially  won  high  applause  by  his  i)erfect  embodi- 
ment of  the  droll  stupidity  of  Fathom,  making  it  far  more  effective,  as  the  author 
afterwards  acknowledged,  than  it  had  ever  been  rendered  upon  the  English  stage ; 
indeed,  it  is  said  that  he  candidly  admitted  he  had  never  thought  itjwssible  to  make 
the  character  so  attractive.  The  play  was  not,  however,  at  first  quite  so  successful 
as  expected ;  the  fine  drawn  character  of  the  heroine,  upon  which  the  author  had 
lavished  all  his  skill  and  power,  failing  of  its  intended  eflfect,  until  the  magic  of 
Fanny  Kemble's  genuis  placed  it  in  a  position  of  favor  from  which  the  rude  handling 
of  many  an  ignorant  dfbufante  and  many  ambitious  aspirants  for  tragic  honors  have 
been  unable  to  dislodge  it.  The  sensation  created  by  the  appearance  of  Mr.  and 
Miss  Kemble,  is  stated  to  have  been  equalled  in  kind  only  in  the  days  of  Cooke  and 
the  elder  Kean,  and  in  duration  and  intensity,  was  altogether  unparalleled  ;  the  in- 
tellectual, educated  and  refined,  crowded  the  theatre  when  they  performed,  and 
during  their  entire  stay  their  popularity  never  waned. 

On  October  15,  1832,  it  was  produced  also  at  the  New  York  Theatre,  better  known 
as  the  Bowery  Theatre,  with  Mr.  Hamblin  as  Sir  Thomas  Clifford,  and  Miss  Vincent 
as  Julia  :  it  proved  a  decided  hit 

In  1845  this  popular  play  was  again  successfully  introduced  to  the  public  with  a 
powerful  array  of  talent,  as  will  be  seen  by  referring  to  the  cast.  That  it  should  suc- 
ceed, was  a  moral  certainty,  the  sweet  actin?  of  the  talented  and  highly  gifted  Mrs, 
Charles  Kean  being  sufficient  in  itself  to  ensure  success.  Gentleman,  scholar,  and 
actor,  as  Mr.  Charles  Kean  was,  he  was  unsuited  to  the  part  of  Sir  Thomas  Clifford 


12  THE    HUirCHBA.CK. 

both  in  voice  and  figure ;  of  this  he  was  well  aware,  for  it  was  a  character  he  seldom 
attempted  ;  when  he  did  so,  I  believe  it  was  only  done  to  show  oflF  the  brilliant  abil- 
ity of  his  wife. 

It  was  again  produced  upon  the  fourth  of  June,  1847,  upon  the  occasion  of  a  com- 
plimentary benefit  given  to  Mrs.  James  Mason,  formerly  Miss  Emma  Wheatley,  by 
a  number  of  leading  citizens.  She  appeared  as  Julia,  which  is  stated  to  have  been 
her  best  character,  and  judging  from  the  accounts  handed  down,  was  most  ably  sup- 
ported by  Mr.  Bass  as  Master  Walter,  Mr.  Wheatley  as  Sir  Thomas  Clifford,  Mr.  G. 
Barrett  as  Modus,  and  Mrs.  Abbott  as  Helen.  The  i)erformance  was  a  great  success; 
it  was  Mrs.  Mason's  last  appearance,  and  in  every  respect  it  was  a  fiattering  end  to  a 
career  eminent  alike  for  professional  skill  and  private  worth. 

It  rested  now  pretty  well  until  the  30th  of  August,  1862,  when  it  was  produced  at 
the  Broadway  Theatre,  with  Mr.  F.  Conway  as  Master  Walter,  Mr  Grosvenor  as 
Modus,  Mr  Florence  as  Lord  Tinsel,  Miss  Julia  Dean  as  Julia,  and  Miss  Annie 
Londsale  as  Helen  ;  meeting  with  very  fair  success. 

But  it  was  reserved  until  the  year  1874  to  witness  what  may  literally  and  truly  be 
called  one  of  the  greatest  triumphs  of  this  play.  In  the  month  of  October  in 
that  year  it  was  produced  at  the  Union  Square  Theatre,  New  York,  in  a  manner, 
both  as  regards  the  acting  and  the  mounting,  that,  as  a  whole,  has  very  rarely  been 
surpassed  ;  indeed,  the  style  in  which  it  was  put  upun  the  stage  reflected  the  great- 
est possible  credit  upon  the  liberality  of  the  proprietor,  Mr.  Sheridan  Shook,  and  the 
good  taste  and  judgment  of  the  manager,  Mr.  A.  M.  Palmer.  Mr.  F.  Robinson's 
Master  Walter  and  the  Sir  Thomos  Clifford  of  Mr.  Charles  R.  Thorne,  Jr.,  were  ad- 
mirably rendered ;  the  Modus  of  Mr.  Stuart  Eobson  and  the  Fathom  of  Mr.  J.  E. 
Irving  everything  that  could  be  desired.  Miss  Clara  Morris  made  an  excellent  Julia, 
and  though  wanting  in  some  respects  the  softness  and  sweetness  thrown  into  the 
part  by  her  great  predecessors,  in  many  instances  she  rendered  the  character  most 
powerfully  and  effectively.  I  should  think  a  better  Helen  than  Miss  Kate  Claxton 
has  not  been  seen  upon  the  New  York  stage  for  some  years,  if  at  all.  It  has  rarely 
been  my  lot  to  see  a  finer  piece  of  acting  or  one  greeted  with  louder  or  more  genuine 
applause  than  the  scene  between  her  and  Modus,  in  which  they  discourse  upon  Ovid 
and  the  art  of  love.  It  will  be  some  time,  I  think,  before  the  masterpiece  of  Knowles 
will  be  better  mounted  or  more  effectively  acted. 

I  will  here  take  the  opjwrtunity  of  saying  that  I  am  indebted  for  much  of  the  fore- 
going material  to  Mr.  Ireland's  "  History  of  the  New  York  Stage,"  which  is  one  of 
the  best  works  of  the  kind  I  have  met  with,  and  I  tender  him  my  sincere  thanks  for 
the  information  obtained  from  it,  not  only  for  this  play,  but  for  others  which  I  have 
had  the  honor  and  pleasure  of  editing. 

J.  M.  Kingdom. 


STAGE  DIRECTIONS. 

R.  means  Right  of  Stage,  facing  the  Audience  ;  L.  Left ;  C.  Centre ;  R.  C.  Right 
of  Centre ;  L.  C.  Left  of  Centre.  D.  F.  Door  in  the  Flat,  or  Scene  running  across 
the  back  of  the  Stage ;  C.  D.  F.  Centre  Door  in  the  Flat ;  R.  D.  F.  Right  Door  in 
the  Flat ;  L.  D.  F.  Left  Door  in  the  Flat ;  R.  D.  Right  Door  ;  L.  D.  Left  Door  ;  1  E. 
First  Entrance;  2  E.  Second  Entrance;  U.  E.  Upper  Entrance  ;  1,  2  or  3  G.  First, 
Second  or  Third  Grooves. 

R.  R.  C.  C.  L.  C.  L. 

K9*  The  reader  is  supposed  to  be  upon  the  stajfe  facing  the  audience. 


THE   HUNCHBACK.   *  13 

BILL  FOR  PROGRAMMES, 

AS  OBIOINALLT  PLAYBD. 
ACT  I. 

SCBNE  T.— INTEEIOR  OF  A  TAVERN. 
A  Gallant  Ca^'ousal — Extravagance,  Love,  and  Wine — An  Expectant  Earl  and 
his   Boon   Companions — Arrival  of    the   Hunchback — The  Tidings  of 
Death — A  Gallant  in  his  Ctips — Tlie  Quarrel — A  Friend  in  Need— The 
Story  of  Sir  Thomas  Clifford— The  Offer  of  a  Wife. 

ScKNE  ir.— THE  GARDENS  OF  MASTER  WALTER'S  HOUSE. 
The  Fair  Julia  and  her  Companion  Helen — Town  and  Country  Life — Th$ 
Story  of  a  Loving  Guardian — An   Unexpected  Visitor — Woman's  Curi- 
osity. 

Scene  III.-APARTMENT  IN  MASTER  WALTER'S  HOUSE. 
Love  at  First  Sight — Sir  Thomas  Wooes  a  Rural  Bride — Lovers  Disturbed — 

Departure  for  Town. 

ACT  II. 

Scene  I.-APARTMENT  IN  MASTER  HEARTWELL'S  HOUSE. 
Town  and  Country  Servants — Julia  Transformed  to  a  City  Beauty — High  jVb' 

tions  and  Late  Hours. 

Scene  II. -THE  GARDENS  OF  HEARTWELL'S  HOUSE. 
A  Meeting  of  Old  Friends — The  Pleasures  of  High  Life — Gayety  and  Love — 

A  Fickle  Woman — The  Wedding  Day  Fixed — Visions  of  Pleasure  and 

Extravagance — A  Lover's  Remonstrance — "  I'll  Lead  Thee  to  the  Church, 

and  then — Farewell  for  ever  .' " 

Scene  III.— A  STREET. 
Alarming  News — Sir  Thomas  reduced  to  Poverty — A  Faithful  Servant — ITie 

Dead  come  to  Life — Anger  of  Master  Walter. 

ACT  III. 

Scene  I.-DRAWING  ROOM  IN  THE  EARL  OF  ROCHDALE'S  HOUSE. 
Indignation  of  his  Lordship  at  Julia's  Refusal  to  Marry — Rank  Better  than 
Brains — Birds  of  a  Feather — Fashionable  Amusements. 
Scene  II.— APARTMENT  IN  MASTER  HEARTWELL'S  HOUSE. 
True   Love   Runs   not   Smoothly — Offended  Pride — A   Woman  Crossed  and 
Vexed — The  Temptation  of  a  Coronet — Pride  is  Triumphant,  and  the  Old 
Love  Cast  off — Neu-s  of  Cliffoid's  Ruin — Julia's  Anguish — An  Artful 
Plot — The  Marriage  Deeds  Prepared. 
ACT  IV. 
Scene  L-A  ROOM  IN  THE  EARL  OF  ROCHDALE'S  HOUSE. 
Helen  and  her  Cousin  Modus — Ovid's  Art  of  Love — Bashful  Simplicity — A 
Lively  Trap  to  catch  a  Timid  Lover — A  Bold  Resolve — "  Hang  Ovid's 
Art  of  Love!    Ill  Woo  my  Cottsin!' 

ScBNE  II.-BANQUETING  ROOM  IN  THE  SAME. 
Master  Walter  and  his  Ward— The  Story  of  the  Princess  and  the  Page — A 


14  .  THE    HUNCHBACK. 

Message  from  the  Earl  of  Eochdale— Master  Walter* s  Warning— The 
Poor  Secretary,  Sir  Thomas  Clifford— Bitter  Anguish  of  Julia— Love 
Overcomes  Pride ^  and  Clifford  Wins— Unexpected  Entrance  of  the 
Hunchback— Dismissal  of  Clifford. 

ACT  V. 

Scene  I.-A  ROOM  IN  THE  EARL  OF  ROCHDALE'S  HOUSE. 

A  Scheming  Woman— Helen's  Plan  for  Julia's  Flight— A  Plot  for  Marriage 
— A  Simple  Lover,  and  a  Woman's  Teaching — A  Happy  Result — Love 
Victorious. 

SctNE  II.— JULIA'S  CHAMBER. 

Preparations  for  the  Wedding — Anguish  of  Julia— Arrival  of  the  Hunch- 
back— Agonizing  Appeal  of  Julia — He  Pictures  to  Her  the  Sweetness  of 
Her  Country  Life — TJiere  is  no  H&pe— Arrival  of  the  Bridegroom  and 
Guests — Pathetic  Appeal  of  Julia — Refusal  of  the  Bridegroom — Sudden 
Intervention  of  Master  Walter— Startling  Disclosures  /  The  Hunch- 
back is  Earl  of  Rochdale,  and  Jidia  his  Daughter  ! — Union  of  Julia  and 
Sir  Thomas  Clifford. 

AS   PLAYED    AT    THE    UNION    SQUARE    THEATRE. 

ACT  1. 

Scene  I.-SAME  AS  ABOVE,  ACT  I.,  SCENE  II. 

ACT  II. 

Scene  I.— THE  GARDENS  OF  MASTER  WALTER'S  COUNTRY  HOUSE. 

The  incidents  described  above  in  Act  I.,  Scenes  2  and  3. 

ACT  III. 

Scene  II. -THE  GARDENS  OF  MASTER  HE  ART  WELL'S  HOUSE  NEAR 

LONDON. 

TJie  incidents  descibed  above  in  Act  IL,  Scenes  1  and  2. 

SCBNK  III.— A  STREET  IN  LONDON,  SAME  AS  ACT  IL,  SCENE  III. 
ACT  IV. 
Scene  I.-LIBRARY  IN  MASTER  HEARTWELL»8  HOUSE. 
The  incidents  described  above  in  Act  IIL,  Scene  2. 

ACT  V. 
Scene  L-GRAND  SALOON  IN  THE  EARL  OF  ROCHDALE'S  HOUSE. 
The  incidents  described  above  in  Act  IV.,  Scenes  1  and  2. 

ACT  VI. 

Scene  I.— THE  SAME. 
The  incidents  described  above  in  Act  V.,  Scenes  1,  2,  and  3. 


THE  HUNCHBACK. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. — A  tavern.  Sir  Thomas  Clifford  at  a  table  with  wine  before 
him,  L.  c,  Master  Wilford,  Gaylove,  Holdwell,  and  Simpson, 
Uketvise  talcing  wine,  at  table  near  r.  2  e. 

Wir.FORD.  Your  wine,  sirs;  your  wine;  you  do  not  justice  to  mine 
host  of  the  Three  Tuns,  nor  credit  to  yourselves.  I  swear  the  beverage 
is  good  !  It  is  as  palatable  poison  as  you  will  purchase  within  a  mile 
round  Ludgate,  Drink,  gentlemen ;  make  free.  You  know  I  am  a  man 
of  expectations,  and  hold  my  money  as  light  as  the  purse  in  which  I 
carry  it. 

Gaylove.  We  drink,  Master  Wilford ;  not  a  man  of  us  has  been 
chased  as  yet. 

WiLF.  But  you  fill  not  fairly,  sirs.  Look  at  my  measure !  Where- 
fore a  large  glass,  if  not  for  a  large  draught  ?  Fill,  I  pray  you,  else  let 
us  drink  out  of  thimbles.  This  will  never  do  for  the  friends  of  the 
nearest  of  kin  to  the  wealthiest  peer  in  Britain, 

Gay.  We  give  you  joy,  Master  Wilford,  of  the  prospect  of  advance- 
ment which  has  so  unexpectedly  opened  to  you. 

WiLF.  Unexpectedly  indeed  !  But  3^esterday  arrived  the  news  that 
the  earl's  only  son  and  heir  had  died,  and  to  day  has  the  earl  himself 
been  seized  with  a  mortal  illness.  His  dissolution  is  looked  for  hourly, 
and  I,  his  cousin  in  only  the  third  degree,  known  to  him  but  to  be  un- 
noticed by  him — a  decayed  gentleman's  son — glad  of  the  title  and 
revenues  of  a  scrivener's  clerk — am  the  undoubted  successor  to  his  es- 
tates and  coronet. 

Gay.  Have  you  been  sent  for  ? 

WiLF.  No ;  but  I  have  certified  to  his  agent,  Master  Walter,  the 
hunchback,  my  existence  and  peculiar  propinquity;  and  momentarily 
expect  him  here. 

"  Gay.  Lives  there  any  one  that  may  dispute  your  claim — I  mean 
vexatiously  1 

"  WiLF.  Not  a  man,  Master  Gaylove.  I  am  the  sole  remaining  branch 
of  the  family  tree." 

Gay.  Doubtless  you  look  for  much  happiness  from  this  change  of 
fortune  7 

WiLF.  A  world  !  Three  things  have  I  an  especial  passion  for  :  the 
finest  hound,  the  finest  horse,  and  the  finest  wife  in  the  kingdom,  Mas- 
ter Gaylove. 

Gay.  The  finest  wife  ! 

WiLP.  Yes,  sir;  I  marry.  Once  the  earldom  comes  into  my  line,  I 
shall  take  measures  to  perpetuate  its  remaining  there.  I  marry,  sir!  I 
do  not  say  that  I  shall  love.     My  heart  has  changed  mistresses  too 


16  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [a.CT  I. 

often  to  settle  down  in  one  servitude  now,  sir.  But  fill,  I  pray  you, 
friends.  This,  if  1  mistake  not,  is  the  day  whence  1  shall  date  my  new 
fortunes,  "  and  for  that  reason,  Hither  have  I  invited  you,  that  having 
been  so  long  my  boon  companions,  you  should  be  the  first  to  congratu- 
late me." 

Enter  Waiter,  l.  d. 

Waiter  You  are  wanted,  Master  Wilford. 
WiLF.  By  whom  ? 
Waiter    One  Master  Walter. 

WiLF.  His  Lordship's  agent !     News,  sirs  !     Show  him  in  !  {rises.') 

[Exit  Waiter,  l.  d. 
My  heart's  a  prophet,  sirs — the  Earl  is  dead. 

Enter  Master  Walter,  l.  d. 

Well,  Master  Walter ;  how  accost  you  me  1  {all  come  forward,  except  Clif- 
ford, R.) 
Walter,  As  your  impatience  shows  me  you  would  have  me, 

My  Lord,  the  Earl  of  Rochdale ! 
Gay.  Give  you  joy  ! 

Holdwell.  All  happiness,  my  lord  ! 

SiMPSox.  Long  life  and  health  unto  your  lordship  ! 
"Gay.  Come! 

"We'll  drink  to  his  lordship's  health !     'Tis  two  o'clock. 

"  We'll  e'en  carouse  till  midnight !     Health,  my  lord  !" 
Hold.  My  lord,  much  joy  to  you  !     Huzza !  {aU  go  to  the  table,  fill  and 

drink.) 
"  Simp.  Huzza !" 

Walt.  (l.  c).  Give  something  to  the  dead  ! 
Gay.  Give  what  1 

Walt.  Respect ! 

He  has  made  the  living !     First  to  him  that's  gone 

Say  "Peace,"  and  then  with  decency  to  revels. 
Gay.  What  means  the  knave  by  revels  1  {advances  toward  Walter.) 
Walt.  Knave ! 

Gat.  Ay,  knave ! 

Walt.  Go  to  !     Thou'rt  flushed  with  wine. 
Gat.  Thou  say  est  false  ! 

Tho'  didst  thou  need  a  proof  thou  speakest  true, 

I'd  give  thee  one.     Thou  seest  but  one  lord  here, 

And  I  see  two ! 
Walt.  Reflect'st  thou  on  my  shape  ? 

Thou  art  a  villain ! 
Gay.  Ha ! 

Walt.  A  coward  too  !  {walks  from  him,  l.) 

Draw !  {drawing  his  sword.) 
Gat.  Only  mark  him.  how  he  struts  about ! 

How  laughs  his  straight  sword  at  his  noble  back. 
Walt.  Does  it  1     It  cuffs  thee  for  a  liar,  then  !  {strikes  him  with  his 

sword.) 
Gay.  a  blow  1 

Walt,  (striking  again).  Another,  lest  you  doubt  the  first ! 
Gay.  His  blood  on  his  own  head  !     I'm  for  you,  sir  !  {draws.) 
Clifford  {rising,  and  coming  forward,  r.  of  Walter,  and  drawing). 

Hold,  sir  !     This  quarrel's  mine  ! 
Walt.  No  man  shall  fight  for  me,  sir  ! 


ACT  I.J  THE    HUNCHBACK.  17 

Clif.  By  your  leave — 

Your  patience,  pray  !     My  lord— for  so  I  learn 
Behooves  me  to  accost  you — for  your  own  sake 
Draw  off  your  friend  ! 

Walt.  Not  till  we  have  a  bout,  sir ! 

"  Clif.  My  lord,  your  happy  fortune  ill  you  greet — 
"  111  greet  it  those  who  love  you — greeting  thus 
"  The  herald  of  it ! 

"  Walt.  Sir,  what's  that  to  you  1 

Let  go  my  sleeve  ! 

"  Clif.  My  lord,  if  blood  be  shed 

"  On  the  fair  dawn  of  your  prosperity, 
"  Look  not  to  see  the  brightness  of  its  day. 
"  'Twill  be  o'ercast  throughout !" 

Gat.  My  lord,  I'm  struck  ! 

Clif.  You  gave  the  first  blow,  and  the  hardest  one  ! 

Look,  sir  ;  if  swords  you  needs  must  measure,  I'm 
Your  mate,  not  he. 

Walt.  I'm  mate  for  any  man ! 

"Clip.  Draw  off  your  friend,  my  lord,  for  your  own  sake  I" 

Wilf.  Come,  Gaylove,  let  us  have  another  room. 

Gay.    With  all  my  heart,  since  'tis  your  lordship's  will ! 

Wilf.  That's  right !     Put  up  !    Come,  friends  ! 

[Exeunt  Wilfoed  and  friends,  b.  d. 

Walt.  I'll  follow  him  ! 

Why  do  you  hold  me  1     'Tis  not  courteous  of  you ! 
'•  Think' st  thou  I  fear  them  1     Fear  !     I  rate  them  but 
"  As  dust !  dross  !  offals  !     Let  me  at  them — Nay, 
"Call  you   this  kind  ?  then  kindness  know  I  not ;" 
Nor  do  I  thank  you  for't!     Let  go,  I  say  ! 

Clif.  Nay,  Master  Walter,  they're  not  worth  your  wrath  ! 

Walt.  How  know  you  me  for  Master  Walter  ?    By 

My  hunchback,  eh  1 — "  my  stilts  of  legs  and  arms, 
"  The  fashion  more  of  ape's,  than  man's  1     Aha  ! 
"  So  you  have  heard  them,  too — their  savage  gibes 
"  As  I  pass  on — '  There  goes  my  lord  !'  aha  !" 
God  made  me,  sir,  as  well  as  them  and  you. 
'Sdeath  !     I  demand  of  you,  unhand  me,  sir !  {atsengaging  him- 
self.) 

Clip.  (  puts  up  his  sword).  There,  sir,  you're  free  to  follow  them  !     Go 
forth, 
And  I'll  go,  too ;  so  on  your  wilfulness 
Shall  fall  whate'er  of  evil  may  ensue. 
Is't  fit  to  waste  your  choler  on  a  burr  1 
•'  The  nothings  of  the  town  "?  whose  sport  it  is 
"  To  break  their  villain  jests  on  worthy  men, 
"  The  graver,  still  the  fitter  !     Fie,  for  shame  !" 
Regard  what  such  would  say  1     So  would  not  I, 
No  more  than  heed  a  cur  ! 

Walt.  You're  right,  sir  ;  right  ; 

For  twenty  crowns  !  ( puts  up  his  sword)  So  there's  my  rapier  up. 
You've  done  me  a  good  turn  against  my  will, 
Which,  like  a  wayward  child,  whose  pet  is  off, 
That  made  him  restive  under  wholesome  check, 
I  now  rightly  humbly  own,  and  thank  you  for. 

Clif.    No  thanks,  good  Master  Walter,  owe  you  me  ! 
I'm  glad  to  know  you,  sir. 


18  THE    HUNCflBACIC.  [a.CT  I. 

Walt.  I  pray  you,  tell  me 

How  did  you  learn  my  name  1    Guessed  I  not  right  ? 

Was't  not  my  comely  hunch  that  taught  it  you  1 
Clif.   I  own  it. 
Walt.  Right,  I  know  it ;  you  tell  truth. 

I  like  you  for't. 
Clif.  But  when  I  heard  it  said 

That  Master  Walter  was  a  worthy  man, 

Whose  word  would  pass  on  'change  soon  as  his  bond  j 

A  liberal  man— for  schemes  of  public  good 

That  sets  down  tens  where  others  units  write ; 

A  charitable  man — the  good  he  does, 

1  s  told  of,  not  the  half — I  never  more 

Could  feel  the  hunch  on  Master  "Walter's  back. 
Walt.  You  would  not  flatter  a  poor  citizen  1 
Clip.    Indeed,  I  flatter  not. 
Walt.  I  like  your  face ; 

A  frank  and  honest  one  !     Your  frame's  well  knit, 

Proportioned,  shaped ! 
Clif.  Good,  sir ! 

Walt.  Your  name  is  Clifibrd — (^Clif- 

ford bows) 

Sir  Thomas  Clifford.     Humph  !     You're  not  the  heir 

Direct  to  the  fair  baronetcy  1     He 

That  was  drowned  abroad.     Am  I  not  right  1 

Your  cousin,  was't  not  ?     So  succeeded  you 

To  rank  and  wealth  your  birth  ne'er  promised  you. 
Clip.  I  see  you  know  my  history. 
Walt.  I  do. 

You're  lucky  who  conjoin  the  benefits 

Of  penury  and  abundance  ;  for  I  know 

Your  father  was  a  man  of  slender  means. 

You  do  not  blush,  1  see.     That's  right !    Why  should  you  ? 

What  merit  to  be  dropped  on  fortune's  hill  ? 

The  honor  is  to  mount  it.     You'd  have  done  it ; 

For  you  were  trained  to  knowledge,  industry, 

Frugality,  and  honesty, — the  sinews 

That  surest  help  the  climber  to  the  top. 

And  keep  him  there.     I  have  a  clerk,  Sir  Thomas, 

Once  served  your  father  ;  there's  the  riddle  for  you. 

Humph  !  I  may  thank  you  for  my  life  to-day. 
Clip.   I  pray  you,  say  not  so  ! 
Walt.  But  I  will  say  so ! 

Because  I  think  so,  know  so,  feel  so,  sir ! 

Your  fortune,  I  have  heard,  I  think,  is  ample ; 

And  doubtless  you  live  up  to't  ? 
Clip.  'Twas  my  plan, 

And  is  so  still,  to  keep  my  outlay,  sir, 

A  span  within  my  means. 
"  Walt.  A  prudent  rule. 

'*  The  turf  is  a  seductive  pastime  ! 
"  Clip.  Yes. 

♦'  Walt.  You  keep  a  racing  stud  7     You  bet  ? 
"Clif.  No,  neither. 

"  'Twas  still  my  father's  precept — '  Better  owe 
"  A  yard  of  land  to  labor,  than  to  chance 
•'  Be  debtor  for  a  rood !'  " 


ACT  I.]  THE    HUNCHBACK.  19 

Walt,  "  'Twas  a  wise  precept." 

You've  a  fair  house — you'll  get  a  mistress  for  it  ? 
Clif.   In  time. 
Walt.  In  time  !     'Tis  time  thy  choice  were  made. 

Is't  not  so  yet  1     Or  is  thy  lady-love 

The  newest  still  thou  see'st  ? 
Clif.  Nay,  not  so. 

I'd  marry,  Master  Walter,  but  old  use — 

For,  since  the  age  of  thirteen,  1  have  Hved 

In  the  world — has  made  me  jealous  of  the  thing 

That  flattered  me  with  hope  of  profit.     Bargains 

Another  would  snap  up  might  lie  for  me 

Till  I  had  turned  and  turned  them  !     Speculations 

That  promised  twenty,  thirty,  forty,  fifty. 

Ay,  cent,  per  cent,  returns,  I  would  not  launch  in 

When  others  were  afloat,  and  out  at  sea ! 

Whereby  I  made  small  gains,  but  missed  great  losses  ! 

As  ever  then  I  looked  before  I  leaped, 

So  do  I  now. 
Walt.  Thou'rt  all  the  better  for't ! 

(aside)  Let's  see !     Hand  free — heart  whole — well  favored — so ! 

Rich — titled  !    Let  that  pass — kind,  valiant,  prudent— 

{aloud)  Sir  Thomas,  I  can  help  thee  to  a  wife, 

Hast  thou  the  luck  to  win  her. 
Clif.  (astonished).  Master  Walter ! 

You  jest ! 
Walt.  I  do  not  jest — I  like  you !  mark — 

I  like  you,  and  I  like  not  every  one  ! 

I  say  a  wife,  sir,  can  I  help  you  to ; 

The  pearly  texture  of  whose  dainty  skin 

Alone  were  worth  thy  baronetcy  !    Form 

And  feature  has  she,  wherein  move  and  glow 

The  charms,  that  in  the  marble  cold  and  still 

Culled  by  the  sculptor's  jealous  skill,  and  joined  there, 

Inspire  us  !     Sir,  a  maid,  before  whose  feet 

A  duke — a  duke  might  lay  his  coronet, 

To  lift  her  to  his  state  and  partner  her  ! 

A  fresh  heart,  too  !     A  young,  fresh  heart,  sir,  one 

That  Cupid  has  not  toyed  with,  and  a  warm  one. 

Fresh,  young,  and  warm  !  mark  that !  a  mind  to  boot. 

Wit,  sir ;  sense,  taste  ;  a  garden  strictly  tended — 

Where  naught  but  what  is  costly  flourishes. 

A  consort  for  a  king,  sir !     Thou  shalt  see  her. 
Clif.  I  thank  you,  Master  Walter  !  (with  spirit)  E'en  while  you  speak, 

Methinks  I  see  me  at  the  altar  foot, 

Her  hand  fast  locked  in  mine — the  ring  put  on, 

My  wedding  bell  ring  merry  in  my  ear, 

And  round  me  throng  glad  tongues  that  give  me  joy 

To  be  the  bridegroom  of  so  fair  a  bride !  (crosses.) 
Walt,  (aside).  What !  sparks  so  thick  !    We'll  have  a  blaze  anon  I 

Unter  Servant,  l.  d. 

Serv.  The  chariot's  at  the  door. 
Walt.  It  waits  in  time. 

Sir  Thomas,  it  shall  bear  thee  to  the  bower 


20  THE   HXnrCHBACK.  [aCT  I. 

Where  dwells  this  fair,  for  she's  no  city  belle, 

But  e'en  a  Sylvan  goddess. 
Clip.  Have  with  you  ! 

Walt.  You'll  bless  the  day  you  served  the  hunchback,  sir  !* 

[Sxewit,  L.  D. 

SCENE  II. — A  garden  before  a  country  house.-\ 
Enter  Julia  and  Helen,  b. 

Helen  (l.).  I  like  not,  Julia,  this,  your  country  life. 

I'm  weary  on't. 
Julia  (r.).  Indeed !     So  am  not  I ! 

I  know  no  other ;  would  no  other  know. 
Helen.  You  would  no  other  know  !    Would  you  not  know 

Another  relative  ? — another  friend — 

Another  house — another  anything. 

Because  the  ones  you  have  already  please  you  1 

That's  poor  content !     "  Would  you  not  be  more  rich  ? 

"  More  wise,  more  fair  7"     The  song  that  last  you  learned 

You  fancy  well,  and  therefore,  shall  you  learn 

No  other  song  ?     Your  virginal.,  'tis  true, 

Hath  a  sweet  tone;  but  does  it  follow  thence, 

You  shall  not  have  another  virginal  1 

You  may  love,  and  a  sweeter  one,  and  so 

A  sweeter  life  may  find,  than  this  you  lead  ! 
Julia.  I  seek  it  not.     Helen,  I'm  constancy  ! 
Helen.  So  is  a  cat,  a  dog,  a  silly  hen, 

An  owl,  a  bat — where  they  are  wont  to  lodge  \ 

That  still  sojourn,  nor  care  to  shift  their  quarters. 

Thou'rt  constancy  ?    I'm  glad  I  know  thy  name  ! 

The  spider  comes  of  the  same  family, 

That  in  his  meshy  fortress  spends  his  life, 

Unless  you  pull  it  down,  and  scare  him  from  it. 

*'  And  so  thou'rt  constancy  1     Art  proud  of  that? 

"I'll  warrant  thee  I'll  match  thee  with  a  snail, 

"  From  year  to  year  that  never  leaves  his  house  ! 

"  Such  constancy,  forsooth  !     A  constant  grub 

"  That  houses  ever  in  the  self-same  nut 

"  Where  he  was  born,  'till  hunger  drives  him  out, 

*'  Or  plunder  breaketh  thro'  his  castle  wall !" 

And  so,  in  very  deed,  thou'rt  constancy  1 
Julia.  Helen,  you  know  the  adage  of  the  tree — 

I've  ta'en  the  bend.     This  rural  life  of  mine. 

Enjoined  me  by  an  unknown  father's  will, 

I've  led  from  infancy.     Debarred  from  hope 

Of  change,  I  ne'er  have  sigh'd  for  change.     The  town 

To  me  was  like  the  moon,  for  any  thought 

I  e'er  should  visit  it— nor  was  I  schooled 

To  think  it  half  so  fair ! 
Helen.  Not  half  so  fair  ! 

The  town's  the  sun,  and  thou  hast  dwelt  in  night 

E'er  since  thy  birth,  not  to  have  seen  the  town ! 

*  In  the  version  played  at  the  Union  Square  Theatre,  New  York,  Act  I.  ends 
here,  and  Act  II.  commences  with  the  following  scene. 
t  Act  II.,  Scene  1,  in  new  version. 


ACT  I.]  THE    HUNCHBACK.  21 

Their  women  there  are  queens,  and  kings  their  men; 
Their  houses  palaces !  {crosses,  r.) 
Julia  {crosses,  l.).  And  what  of  that  ? 

Have  your  town  palaces  a  hall  like  this  1 
Couches  so  fragrant  ?     Walls  so  high  adorned  1 
Casements  with  such  festoons,  such  prospects,  Helen, 
As  these  fair  vistas  have  ?     Your  kings  and  queens  ' 
See  me  a  May-day  queen,  and  talk  of  them. 

Helen.  Extremes  are  ever  neighbors.     'Tis  a  step 
From  one  to  the  other !     Were  thy  constancy 
A  reasonable  thing — a  little  less 
Of  constancy—a  woman's  constancy — 
I  should  not  wonder  wert  thou  ten  years  hence 
The  maid  I  know  thee  now  ;  but  as  it  is, 
The  odds  are  ten  to  one,  that  this  day  year 
Will  see  our  May-day  queen  a  city  one. 

Julia.  Never  !     I'm  wedded  to  a  country  life. 

0,  did  you  hear  what  Master  Walter  says  7 

Nine  times  in  ten  the  town's  a  hollow  thing, 

Where  what  things  are,  is  naught  to  what  they  show ; 

Where  merit's  name  laughs  merit's  self  to  scorn  ! 

Where  friendship  and  esteem,  that  ought  to  be 

The  tenants  of  men's  hearts,  lodge  in  their  looks 

And  tongues  alone.     Where  little  virtue,  with 

A  costly  keeper,  passes  for  a  heap ; 

A  heap  for  none,  that  have  a  homely  one ! 

Where  fashion  makes  the  law — your  umpire  which 

You  bow  to,  whether  it  have  brains  or  not. 

Where  Folly  taketh  off  his  cap  and  bells, 

To  clap  on  Wisdom,  which  must  bear  the  jest ! 

Where,  to  pass  current,  you  must  seem  the  thing, 

The  passive  thing  that  others  think  you,  and  not 

Your  simple,  honest,  independent  self!  (crosses,  b.) 

Helen.  Ay,  so  says  Master  Walter.     See  I  not 

What  you  can  find  in  Master  Walter,  Julia, 
To  be  so  fond  of  him  ! 

Julia.  He's  fond  of  me ! 

I've  known  him  since  I  was  a  child.     E'en  then 

The  week  I  thought  a  weary,  heavy  one. 

That  brought  not  Master  Walter.     I  had  those 

About  me  then  that  made  a  fool  of  me, 

As  children  oft  are  fooled  ;  but  more  I  loved 

Good  Master  Walter's  lesson,  than  the  play 

With  which  they'd  surfeit  me.     As  I  grew  up, 

More  frequent  Master  Walter  came,  and  more 

I  loved  to  see  him.     I  had  tutors  then, 

Men  of  great  skill  and  learning— but  not  one 

That  taught  like  Master  Walter.     What  they'd  show  me, 

And  I,  dull  as  I  was,  but  doubtful  saw — 

A  word  from  Master  Walter  made  as  clear 

As  daylight.     When  my  schooling  days  were  o'er — 

That's  now  good  three  years  past — three  years — I  vow 

I'm  twenty,  Helen — well,  as  I  was  saying, 

When  I  had  done  with  school,  and  all  were  gone, 

StiU  Master  Walter  came,  and  still  he  comes, 

Summer  or  winter — frost  or  rain.     I've  seen 


22  THE   HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  1. 

The  snow  upon  a  level  with  the  hedge, 

Yet  there  was  Master  Walter ! 
Helen  {crosses,  l.).  Who  comes  here  "i 

A  carriage,  and  a  gay  one — who  alights  1 

Pshaw  !     Only  Master  Walter !     What  see  you, 

Which  thus  repairs  the  arch  of  the  fair  brow 

A  frown  was  like  to  spoil  1     A  gentleman  ! 

One  of  our  town  kings  !     Mark — how  say  you  now  1 

Would'st  be  a  town  queen,  Julia  ?  (archly)  Which  of  us, 

I  wonder,  comes  he  for  1 
Julia.  For  neither  of  us  ; 

He's  Master  Walter's  clerk,  most  like. 
Helen.  Most  like ! 

Mark  him  as  he  comes  up  the  avenue  ; 

So  looks  a  clerk  !     A  clerk  has  such  a  gait ! 

So  does  a  clerk  dress,  Juiia — mind  his  hose — 

They're  very  like  a  clerk's  !  a  diamond  loop 

And  button,  note  you,  for  his  clerkship's  hat — 

0,  certainly  a  clerk  !     "A  velvet  cloak, 

"  Jerkin  of  silk,  and  doublet  of  the  same — " 

For  all  the  world  a  clerk  !     See,  Julia,  see 

How  Master  Walter  bows,  and  yields  him  place, 

That  he  may  first  go  in — a  very  clerk ! 
Julia.  I  wonder  who  he  is  1 
Helen.  Would'st  like  to  know  1 

Would'st  for  a  fancy,  ride  to  town  with  him  1 

I  prophesy  he  comes  to  take  thee  thither. 
Julia.  He  ne'er  takes  me  to  town.     No,  Helen,  no. 

To  town  who  will— a  country  life  for  me  I 
Helen.  We'll  see  1  {crosses  to  e.) 

3tier  Fathom,  l.  c,  and  advances. 

Fathom  (c).  You're  wanted,  madam. 

Julia  {embarrassed  ).  Which  of  us  1 

Fath.  You,  madam. 

Helen.  Julia,  what's  the  matter  1    Nay, 

Mount  not  the  rose  so  soon.     He  must  not  see  it 

A  month  hence.     'Tis  love's  flower,  which  once  she  wears, 

The  maid  is  all  his  own. 
Julia.  Go  to ! 

Helen.  Be  sure !  (crosses,  l.) 

He  comes  to  woo  thee  !     He  will  bear  thee  hence ; 

He'll  make  thee  change  the  country  for  the  town. 
Julia.  I'm  constancy.    Name  he  the  town  to  me, 

I'll  tell  him  what  I  think  on't !  {crosses,  r.) 
Helen.  Then  you  guess 

He  comes  a-wooing  1 
Julia.  I  guess  naught. 

Helen.  You  do ! 

At  your  grave  words,  your  lips,  more  honest,  smile. 

And  show  them  to  be  traitors.     Hie  to  him. 
Julia.  Hie  thee  to  soberness ! 

[Etit  by  steps,  l.,  followed  part  of  the  way  by  Helen. 
Helen.  Ay,  will  I,  when 

Thy  bridemaid,  I  shall  hie  to  church  with  thee. 

Well,  Fathom,  who  is  come  %  {comes  down,  l.) 


ACT  1.]  THE    HUNCHBA.CK.  23 

Fath.  I  know  Dot. 

Helen.  Whaki 

Did'st  thou  not  hear  his  name  1 
Fath.  I  did. 

Helen.  Whatis'tf 

Fath.  I  noted  not. 

Helen.  What  hast  thou  ears  for,  then  1 

Fath.  What  good  were  it  for  me  to  mind  his  name  1 

1  do  but  what  I  must.     To  do  that 

Is  labor  quite  enough. 
Walt,  {without,  l.).  Fathom  ! 

Fath.  Here ! 

Walt,  {entering,  c).  Here,  sirrah  !  Wherefore  did'st  not  come  to  me  % 
Fath.  You  did  not  bid  me  come. 
Walt.  I  called  thee  ! 

Fath.  Yes, 

And  I  said,  '*  Here  !"  and  waited  then  to  know 

Your  worship's  will  with  me. 
Walt.  We  go  to  town — 

Thy  mistress,  thou,  and  all  the  house, 
Fath.  Well,  sir  1 

Walt.  (c).  Mak'st  thou  not  ready,  then,  to  go  to  town"? 
Fath.  You  didn't  bid  me  to  make  ready,  sir  ! 
Walt.  Hence,  knave,  dispatch  !  [Exit  Fathom,  U, 

Helen.  Go  we  to  town  7 
Walt.  We  do; 

'Tis  now  her  father's  will  she  sees  the  town. 
Helen.  I'm  glad  on't.     Goes  she  to  her  father '? 
Walt.  No ; 

With  the  consent  of  thine,  she  for  a  term 

Shares  roof  with  thee. 
Helen.  I'm  very  glad  on't. 

Walt.  What ! 

You  like  her,  then  1     I  thought  you  would.     'Tis  time 

She  sees  the  town. 
Helen.  It  has  been  time  for  that, 

These  six  years. 
Walt.  By  thy  wisdom's  count.    No  doubt 

You've  told  her  what  a  precious  place  it  is. 
Helen.  I  have. 

Walt.  I  even  guessed  as  much.    For  that 

I  told  thee  of  her ;  brought  thee  here  to  see  her ; 

And  prayed  thee  to  sojourn  a  space  with  her ; 

That  its  fair  face,  from  thy  too  fair  report. 

Might  strike  a  novice  less — so  less  deceive  her. 

I  did  not  put  thee  under  check. 
Helen.  'Twas  right- 

Else  I  had  broken  loose  and  run  the  wilder ! 

So  knows  she  not  her  father  yet  1    That's  strange ; 

I  prithee  how  does  mine  ^      ' 
Walt.  Well— very  well. 

News  for  thee. 
Helen.  What  ] 

Walt.  Thy  cousin  is  in  town. 

Helen.  My  cousin,  Modns  ] 
Walt.  Much  do  I  suspect 

That  cousin's  nearer  to  thy  heart  than  blood. 


24  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  I. 

Helen,  Pshaw  !     Wed  me  to  a  musty  library  1 

Love  him  who  nothing  loves  but  Greek  and  Latin  ? 
But,  Master  Walter,  you  forget  the  main, 
Surpassing  point  of  all.    Who's  come  with  you  % 

Walt.  Ay,  that's  the  question  ! 

Helen.  Is  he  soldier  or 

Civilian  1  lord  or  gentleman  1     He's  rich, 
If  that's  his  chariot.     Where  is  his  estate  1 
What  brings  it  in  1     Six  thousand  pounds  a  yearl 
Twelve  thousand,  may  be  1    Is  he  bachelor, 
Or  husband  1     Bachelor,  I'm  sure  he  is  ! 
Comes  he  not  hither  wooing,  Master  Walter  'i 
Nay,  prithee,  answer  me ! 

Walt.  Who  says  thy  sex 

Are  curious  ?    That  they're  patient,  I'll  be  sworn, 

And  reasonable — very  reasonable — 

To  look  for  twenty  answers  in  a  breath ! 

Come,  thou  shalt  be  enlightened — but  propound 

Thy  questions  one  by  one.     Thou'rt  far  too  apt 

A  scholar  !     My  ability  to  teach 

Will  ne'er  keep  pace,  I  fear,  with  thine  to  learn. 

[Ilxit,  L.  1  E. 

SCENE  III. — An  apartment  in  the  Jiouse* 

Enter  J vhi A,  followed  by  Clifford,  l.  c. 

Julia.  No  more !    I  pray  you,  sir,  no  more  ! 

Clif.  I  love  you ! 

Julia.  You  mock  me,  sir  ! 

Clif.  Then  is  there  no  such  thing 

On  earth  as  reverence '?     Honor  filial,  the  fear 

Of  kings,  the  awe  of  Supreme  Heaven  itself, 

Are  only  shows  and  sounds  that  stand  for  nothing. 

I  love  you. 
Julia.  You  have  known  me  scarce  a  minute. 

Clif.  Say  but  a  moment,  still  I  say  I  love  you. 

Love's  not  a  flower  that  grows  on  the  dull  earth; 

Springs  by  the  calendar  ;  must  wait  for  sun — 

For  rain ;  matures  by  parts — must  take  its  time 

To  stem,  to  leaf,  to  bud,  to  blow.    It  owns 

A  richer  soil,  and  boasts  a  quicker  seed ! 

You  look  for  it,  and  see  it  not,  and  lo ! 

E'en  while  you  look,  the  peerless  flower  is  up. 

Consummate  in  the  birth ! 
Julia.  "  Is't  fear  I  feel  1 

"  Why  else  should  beat  my  heart  1    It  can't  be  fear ! 

"  Something  I  needs  must  say."    You're  from  the  town  I 

How  comes  it,  sir,  you  seek  a  country  wife  1 

"  {aside)  Methinks  'twill  tax  his  wit  to  answer  that." 
Clif.  In  joining  Contrasts  lieth  love's  delight. 

Complexion,  stature,  nature  mateth  it, 

Not  with  their  kinds,  but  with  their  opposites. 

Hence,  hands  of  snow  in  palms  of  russet  lie  ; 

The  form  of  Hercules  effects  the  sylph's, 

*  In  the  Union  Square  version  there  is  no  change  of  Scene. 


ACT  I.]  THE    HUNCHBACK.  26 

And  breasts  that  case  the  lion's  fear-proof  heart, 

Find  their  loved  lodge  in  arms  where  tremors  dwell ! 

"Haply  for  this,  on  Afric's  swarthy  neck, 

"  Hath  Europe's  priceless  pearl  been  seen  to  hang, 

"  That  makes  the  Orient  poor !     So  with  degrees — 

"  Rank  passes  by  the  circlet- graced  brow, 

"  Upon  the  forehead  bare  of  notelessness, 

"  To  print  the  nuptial  kiss.     As  with  degrees, 

"  So  is't  with  habits  ;  "  therefore,  I,  indeed, 

A  gallant  of  the  town,  the  town  forsake, 

To  win  a  country  bride. 
.'  JcLU  "  (asids)  His  prompt  reply, 

•'  My  backward  challenge  shames !     Must  I  give  o'er  f 

"  I'll  try  his  wit  again."  {aloud)  Who  marries  me, 

Must  lead  a  country  life. 
Clip.  The  life  I  love  ! 

But  fools  would  fly  from  it ;  for,  oh,  'tis  sweet ! 

it  finds  the  heart  out,  be  there  one  to  find, 

And  corners  in't  where  stores  of  pleasures  lodge, 

We  never  dreamed  were  there  !     It  is  to  dwell 

'Mid  smiles  that  are  not  neighbors  to  deceit ; 

Music,  whose  melody  is  of  the  heart, 

"  And  gifts  that  are  not  made  for  interest — 

"  Abundantly  bestowed,  by  nature's  cheek, 

"  And  voice,  and  hand  !     It  is  to  live  on  life, 

"  And  husband  it !"    It  is  to  constant  scan 

The  handiwork  of  Heaven  !     It  is  to  con 

Its  mercy,  bounty,  wisdom,  power !    It  is 

To  nearer  see  our  God  ! 
JiruA  {aside) .  How  like  he  talks 

To  Master  Walter !     "  Shall  I  give  it  o'er  1 

"  Not  yet."  {aioud)  Thou  would'st  not  live  one  half  a  year! 

A  quarter  might'st  thou  for  the  novelty 

Of  fields  and  trees  ;  but  then  it  needs  must  be 

In  summer  time,  when  they  go  dressed. 
Clip.  '•  Not  it !" 

In  any  time — say  winter  !     Fields  and  trees 

Have  charms  for  me  in  very  winter  time. 
Julia.  But  snow  may  clothe  them  then. 
Clip.  I  like  them  full 

As  well  in  snow. 
Julia.  You  do  ? 

Clip.  I  do !. 

Julia.  But  night 

Will  hide  both  snow  and  them  ;  and  that  sets  in 

Ere  afternoon  is  out.     A  heavy  thing, 

A  country  fireside  in  a  winter's  night, 

To  one  bred  in  the  town — "  where  winter's  said, 

"  For  sun  of  gayety  and  sportiveness, 

"  To  beggar  shining  summer." 
Clip.  I  should  like 

A  country  winter's  night  especially ! 
Julia.  You'd  sleep  by  the  fir*. 

Clip.  Not  I ;  I'd  talk  to  thee. 
Julia.  You'd  tire  of  that ! 

Walter  aud  Helen  enter,  l.  u  e.,  and  pause. 


26  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  I. 

Clif.  I'd  read  to  thee. 

Julia.  And  that ! 

Clif.  I'd  talk  to  thee  again. 

Julia.  And  sooner  th'e 

Than  first  you  did,,  and  fall  asleep  at  last. 

"  You'd  never  do  to  lead  a  country  life." 
Clif.  "  You  deal  too  hardly  with  me  !"     Matchless  maid, 

'•  As  loved  instructor  brightens  dullest  wit," 

Fear  not  to  undertake  the  charge  of  me  !  {kneels) 

A  willing  pupil  kneels  to  thee,  and  lays 

His  title  and  his  fortune  at  your  feet. 
"  Julia  {aside).  His  title  and  his  fortune !"  (Walter  <?««?  Helen  advance. 
Julia,  disconcerted,  retires  with  the  latter,  r.  Clifford  rises.) 
Walt.  So,  Sir  Thomas ! 

Aha !  you  husband  time  !  well,  was  I  right  ? 

Is't  not  the  jewel  that  I  told  you  'twas  ? 

Would' St  thou  not  give  thine  eyes  to  wear  it,  eh  1 

It  has  an  owner,  tho' — nay,  start  not — one 

That  may  be  brought  to  part  with't,  and  with  whom 

I'll  stand  thy  friend — I  will — I  say,  I  will ! 

A  strange  man,  sir,  and  unaccountable ; 

But  I  can  humor  him — will  humor  him 

For  thy  sake,  good  Sir  Thomas,  for  I  like  thee. 

Well,  is't  a  bargain  1     Come,  thy  hand  upon  it. 

A  word  or  two  with  thee,  {thet/  retire,  l.    Julia  and  Hblen 
cmne  forward,  r.) 
Julia  (l.).  Go  up  to  town  ! 

Helev  (r  ).  Have  I  not  said  it  ten  times  o'er  to  thee  1 

But  if  thou  lik'st  it  not,  protest  against  it. 
Julia.  Not  if  'tis  Master  Walter's  will. 
Helen.  What  then  7 

Thou  would'st  not  break  thy  heart  for  Master  Walter? 
Julia.  That  follows  not ! 
Helen.  What  follows  not  1 

Julia.  That  I 

Should  break  my  heart  that  I  go  up  to  town. 
Helen.  Indeed  !     Oh,  that's  another  matter.     Well, 

I'd  e'en  advise  thee,  then,  to  do  his  will ; 

And  ever  after,  when  I  prophesy, 

Believe  me,  Julia,  {ihep  retire.    Master  Walter  coines  for- 
ward.) 

Enter  Fathom,  L.  1  e.,  crosses  to  Walter, 

Fath.  So  please  you,  sir,  a  letter— a  post-haste  letter  f    The  bearer 
on  horseback,  the  horse  in  a  foam — smoking  like  a  boiler  at  the  heat 
— be  sure  a  post-haste  letter. 
Walt.  Look  to  the  horse  and  rider.  {Exit  Fathom,  l. 

(opens  the  letter  and  reads)  "  What's  this  1     A  testament  ad- 
dressed to  me, 
"  Found  in  his  Lordship's  escritoire,  and  thence 
*<  Directed  to  be  taken  by  no  hand 
*'  But  mine.     My  presence  instantly  required."  (Sir  Thomas, 

Julia,  and  Uelejh  coine  forward) 
Come,  my  mistresses,  ^ 

You  dine  in  town  to-day.     Your  father's  will 
It  is,  my  Julia,  that  you  see  the  world, 


ACT  II.]  THE    HUN CU BACK.  27 

And  thou  sbalt  see  it  in  its  best  attire — 
Its  gayest  looks — its  richest  finery 
It  shall  put  on  for  thee  that  thou  may'st  judge 
Betwixt  it  and  the  rural  life  you've  hved. 
Business  of  moment  I'm  but  just  advised  of, 
Touching  the  will  of  my  late  noble  master, 
The  Earl  of  Rochdale,  recently  deceased, 
Commands  me  for  a  time  to  leave  thee  there. 
Sir  Thomas,  hand  her  to  the  chariot. 

Sir  Thomas  crosses  to  Julia,  and  taking  her  hand  leads  her  towards  the  steps, 
c,  there  they  pause,  and  turn  to  look  back.  Walter  takes  Helen's 
hand,  and  when  he  finishes  speaking^  hands  her  towards  the  steps  as  the 
curtain  descends. 

Nay,  I  tell  thee  true.    We  go  indeed  to  town  !  [Exeunt. 

CURTAIN.* 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I. — An  apartment  in  Master  Heartwell's  house. 

Enter  Thomas  and  Fathom,  l.  2  e. 

Thomas.  Well,  Fathom,  is  thy  mistress  up  1 

Fath.  She  is.  Master  Thomas,  and  breakfasted. 

Thom.  She  stands  it  well !  'Twas  five,  you  say,  when  she  came  home, 
and  wants  it  now  three-quarters  of  an  hour  of  ten  !  Wait  till  her  stock 
of  country  health  is  out. 

Fath.  'Twill  come  to  that.  Master  Thomas,  before  she  lives  another 
month  in  town.  Three,  four,  five,  six  o'clock,  are  now  the  hours  she 
keeps.  'Twas  otherwise  with  her  in  the  country.  There  my  mistress 
used  to  rise  what  time  she  now  lies  down, 

Thom.  Why,  yes  ;  she's  changed  since  she  came  hither. 

Fath.  Changed,  do  you  say.  Master  Thomas  ?  Changed  forsooth  !  I 
know  not  the  thing  in  which  she  is  not  changed,  saving  that  she  is  still 
a  woman.  I  tell  thee,  there  is  no  keeping  pace  with  her  moods.  In 
the  country,  she  had  none  of  them.  When  I  brought  what  she  asked 
for,  it  was  "  Thank  you.  Fathom,"  and  no  more  to  do  ;  but  now  noth- 
ing contents  her.  Hark  ye  !  were  you  a  gentleman,  Master  Thomas — 
for  then,  you  know,  you  would  be  a  diflerent  kind  of  a  man — how  many 
times  would  you  have  your  coat  altered  1 

Thom.  Why,  Master  Fathom,  as  many  times  as  it  would  take  to  make 
it  fit  me. 

Fath.  Good !     But  supposing  it  fitted  thee  at  first  1 

Thom.  Then  would  I  have  it  altered  not  at  all. 

Fath.  Good !  Thou  would'st  be  a  reasonable  gentleman.  Thou 
would'st  have  a  conscience.  Now  hark  to  a  tale  about  my  lady's  last 
gown.     How  many  times  think  you,  took  I  it  back  to  the  seamstress "? 

Thom.  Thrice,  may  be. 

Fath.  Thrice,  may  be !     Twenty  times,  may  be,  and  not  a  turn  too 

*  In  the  Union  Square  version,  Act  II  ends  here,  and  Act  III.  commenoei  with 
the  next  iSoene,  but  dijfferently  arranged. 


28  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  II. 

many  for  the  truth  on't.  Twenty  times,  on  the  oath  of  the  seamstress. 
Now  mark  me — can  you  count  1 

Thom.  After  a  fashion. 

Fath.  You  have  much  to  be  thankful  for,  Master  Thomas ;  you  Lon- 
don serving-men  know  a  world  of  things  which  we  in  the  country  never 
dream  of.  Now  mark — four  times  took  I  it  back  for  the -flounce;  twice 
for  the  sleeves  ;  thrice  for  the  tucker.     How  many  times  in  all  is  that  1 

Thom.  Eight  times  to  a  fraction,  Master  Fathom. 

Fa  I H.  What  a  master  of  figures  you  are  !  Eight  times — now  recol- 
lect that !  And  then  found  she  fault  with  the  trimmings.  Now,  tell  me, 
how  many  times  took  I  back  the  gown  for  the  trimmings  1 

Thom.  Eight  times  more,  perhaps. 

Fath.  Ten  times  to  a  certainty.     How  many  times  makes  that  ? 

Thom.  Eighteen,  Master  Fathom,  by  the  rule  of  addition. 

Fath.  And  how  many  times  more  will  make  twenty  1 

Thom.  Twice,  by  the  same  rule. 

Fath.  Thou  hast  worked  with  thy  pencil  and  slate,  Master  Thomas. 
Well,  ten  times,  as  I  said,  took  I  back  the  gown  for  the  trimmings !  and 
was  she  content  after  all  1  1  warrant  you,  no,  or  my  ears  did  not  pay 
for  it.  She  wished,  she  said,  that  the  slattern  seamstress  had  not 
touched  the  gown ;  for  naught  had  she  done  but  botched  it.  Now, 
what  think  you,  had  the  seamstress  done  to  the  gown  7 

Thom.  To  surmise  that,  I  must  be  learned  in  the  seamstress's  art. 

Fath.  The  seamstress's  art !  Thou  hast  hit  it !  Oh,  the  sweet  seam- 
stress !  The  excellent  seamstress  !  Mistress  of  her  scissors  and  needles, 
which  are  pointless  and  edgeless  to  her  art !  The  seamstress  had  done 
nothing  to  the  gown,  yet  raves  and  storms  my  mistress  at  her  for  having 
botched  it  in  the  making  and  mending ;  and  orders  her  straight  to  make 
another  one,  which  home  the  seamstress  brings  on  Tuesday  last. 

Thom.  And  found  thy  fair  mistress  as  many  faults  with  that  1 

Fath  Not  one !  She  finds  it  a  very  pattern  of  a  gown !  A  well- 
sitting  flounce !  The  sleeves  a  fit — the  tucker  a  fit — the  trimmings  her 
fancy  to  a  T — ha,  ha,  ha  !  and  she  praised  the  seamstress — ha,  ha,  ha ! 
and  she  smiles  at  me,  and  I  smile — ha,  ha,  ha !  and  the  seamstress 
smiles — ha,  ha,  ha  !     Now,  why  did  the  seamstress  smile  1 

Thom.  That  she  had  succeeded  so  well  in  her  art. 

Fath.  Thou  hast  hit  it  again.  The  jade  must  have  been  born  a 
seamstress.  If  ever  I  marry,  she  shall  work  for  my  wife.  The  gown 
was  the  same  gown,  and  there  was  my  mistress's  twentieth  mood. 

Thom.  What  think  you  will  Master  Walter  say  when  he  comes  back  '? 
I  fear  he'll  hardly  know  his  country  maid  again.  Has  she  yet  fixed  her 
wedding-day  1 

Fath.  She  has.  Master  Thomas.  I  coaxed  it  from  her  maid.  She 
marries  Monday  week 

Thom.  Comes  not  Master  Walter  back  to-day  1 

Fath.  Your  Master  expects  him.  {bell  ringing^  l.)  Perhaps  that's  he. 
I  prithee,  go  and  open  the  door  ;  do,  Master  Thomas,  do  ;  for,  proves  it 
my  master,  he'll  surely  question  me. 

Thom.  And  what  should  I  do  ? 

Fath.  Answer  him,  Master  Thomas  and  make  him  none  the  wiser. 
He'll  go  mad  when  he  learns  how  my  lady  flaunts  it.  Go,  open  the 
door,  I  prithee.  Fifty  things,  Master  Thomas,  know  you,  for  one  thing 
that  I  know ;  you  can  turn  and  twist  a  matter  into  any  other  kind  of 
matter,  and  then  twist  and  turn  it  back  again,  if  needs  be ;  so  much 
you  servants  of  the  town  beat  us  of  the  country.  Master  Thomas.  Open 
the  door,  now ;  do,  Master  Thomas,  do  I  [£xeunt,  l.  1  b. 


ACT  II.]  THE    HUNCHBACK.  *29 

SCENE  II. — A  garden  with  two  arbors,  r.  and  l.* 

.EwtVr  Master  Heartwell,  r.  1  e.,  and  Master  Walter,  l.  1  e. 

Heart.  Good  Master  Walter,  welcome  back  again ! 
Walt.  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Master  Heartwell. 
Heart.  How, 

I  pray  you,  sped  the  weighty  bus'ness  which 

So  sudden  called  you  hence  1 
Walt.  Weighty,  indeed ! 

What  thou  would'st  ne'er  expect — wilt  scarce  believe  ! 

Long  hidden  wrong,  wondrously  come  to  light, 

And  great  right  done.     But  more  of  this  anon. 

Now  of  my  ward  discourse .'     Likes  she  the  town  1 

How  does  she  1     Is  she  well  1     Can'st  match  me  her 

Amongst  your  city  maids  ? 
Heart.  Nor  court  ones  neither  ! 

She  far  outstrips  them  all ! 
Walt.  I  knew  she  would. 

What  else  could  follow  in  a  maid  so  bred  1 

A  pure  mind.  Master  Heartwell — not  a  taint 

From  intercourse  with  the  distempered  town, 

With  which  all  contact  was  walled  out ;  until, 

Matured  in  soundness,  I  could  trust  her  to  it, 

And  sleep  amidst  infection,  {they  cross.) 
Heart.  Master  Walter ! 

Walt.  Well  ? 
Heart.  Tell  me,  prithee,  which  is  likelier 

To  plough  a  sea  in  safety  ? — he  that's  wont 

To  sail  in  it — or  he  that  by  the  chart 

Is  master  of  its  soundings,  bearings — knows 

Its  headlands,  havens,  currents — where  'tis  bold, 

And  where  behooves  to  keep  a  good  look  out — 

The  one  will  swim  where  sinks  the  other  one  ? 
Walt.  The  drift  of  this  1 
Heart.  Do  you  not  guess  it  ? 

Walt.  Humph ! 

Heart.  If  you  would  train  a  maid  to  live  in  town 

Breed  her  not  in  the  country. 
Walt.  Say  you  so  1 

Aud  stands  she  not  the  test  1 
Heart.  As  snow  stands  fire  ! 

Your  country  maid  has  melted  all  away. 

And  plays  the  city  lady  to  the  height — 

Her  mornings  gives  to  mercers,  milliners, 

Shoemakers,  jewellers,  and  haberdashers ; 

Her  noons  to  calls  ;  her  afternoons  to  dressing ; 

Evenings  to  plays  or  cards,  and  nights  to  routs, 

Balls,  masquerades  !     Sleep  only  ends  the  riot, 

Which  waking  still  begins ! 
Walt.  I'm  all  amaze ! 

How  bears  Sir  Thomas  this  1 
Heart,  {shrug gingly).  Why,  patiently; 

Though  one  can  see,  with  pain. 
Walt.  She  loves  him  ?    Ha  I 

*  There  is  no  change  of  Scene  in  the  Union  Square  version. 


3Q  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  II. 

That  shrug  is  doubt !     She'd  ne'er  consent  to  wed  hhn, 

Unless  she  loved  him — never !     Her  young  fancy, 

The  pleasures  of  the  town — new  things — have  caught. 

Anon  their  hold  will  slacken ;  she'll  become 

Her  former  self  again  ;  to  its  old  train 

Of  sober  feeHngs  will  her  heart  return, 

And  then  she'll  give  it  wholly  to  the  man 

Her  virgin  wishes  chose  !  {crosses,  r.) 
Heart.  Here  comes  Sir  Thomas, 

"  And  with  him  Master  Modus." 
Walt.  Let  (them)  him  pass ; 

I  would  not  see  him  till  I  speak  with  her.  {they  retire  into  the 
arbor,  l.  u.  e.) 

£nter  Clifford  and  Modus,  l.  1  b. 

Clif.  a  dreadful  question  is  it,  when  we  love, 

To  ask  if  love's  returned  !     I  did  believe 

Fair  Julia's  heart  was  mine — I  doubt  it  now. 

But  once  last  night  she  danced  with  me,  her  hand 

To  this  gallant  and  that  engaged,  as  soon 

As  asked  for  I     "  Maid  that  loved  would  scarce  do  this ! 

"  Nor  visit  we  together  as  we  used, 

"  When  first  she  came  to  town."     She  loves  me  less 

Than  once  she  did — or  loves  me  not  at  all.  {crosses,  l.) 
'*  Mod.  I'm  httle  skilled,  Sir  Thomas,  in  the  world  ; 

"  What  mean  you  now  to  do  1 
*'  Clif.  Remonstrate  with  her ! 

"  Come  to  an  understanding,  and  at  once — " 

If  she  repents  her  promise  to  be  mine, 

( pauses  to  think)  Absolve  her  from  it — and  say  farewell  to  her. 
{crosses,  towards  r.) 
'*  Mod.  Lo,  then,  your  opportunity  " — she  comes — {he  retires  up  the 
stage,  b.) 

"  My  cousin  with  her — her  will  I  engage, 

"  Whilst  you  converse  together. 
"Clif.  Nay,  not  yet! 

*'  My  heart  turns  coward  at  the  sight  of  her. 

"  Stay  till  it  finds  new  courage !     Let  them  pass  I" 

Enter  Julia  and  Helen,  r.  1  e. 

Helen.  So,  Monday  week  will  say  good  morn  to  thee 

A  maid,  and  bid  good  night  a  sober  wife ! 
Julia.  That  Monday  week,  I  trust,  will  never  come 

That  brags  to  make  a  sober  wife  of  me  ! 
Helen.  How  changed  you  are,  my  Julia  ! 

Julia.  Change  makes  change. 

Helen.  Why  wedd'st  thou,  then  1 

Julia.  Because  I  promised  him. 

Helen.  Thou  lov'st  him  ? 
Julia.  Do  I  ? 

Helen.  He's  a  man  to  love ; 

A  right  well-favored  man  ! 
Julia.  Your  point's  well-favored. 

Where  did  you  purchase  it  ?     "  In  Gracechurch  street  1" 
Helen.  Pshaw  !  never  mind  my  point,  but  talk  of  him. 


ACT  II.]  THE    HUNCHBACK.  3t 

Julia.  I'd  rather  talk  with  thee  abont  the  lace. 

Where  bought  you  it  1     In  Gracechurch  street,  Cheapside, 

Whitechapel,  Little  Britain  1     Can't  you  say 

Where  'twas  you  bought  the  lace  ? 
Helen.  In  Cheapside,  then. 

And  now,  then,  to  Sir  Thomas  !     He  is  just 

The  height  I  like  a  man, 
Julia.  Thy  feather's  just 

The  height  I  like  a  feather  !     Mine's  too  long ! 

What  shall  I  give  thee  in  exchange  for  it  ? 
Helen.  What  shall  I  give  thee  for  a  minute's  talk 

About  Sir  Thomas  1 
Julia.  Why,  thy  feather. 

Helex.  Take  it ! 

"  Clif.  {aside  to  Modus).  What !  likes  she  not  to  speak  of  me  ?" 
Helen.  And  now 

Let's  talk  about  Sir  Thomas — "  Much,  I'm  sure, 

"  He  loves  you. 
"  Julia.  Much,  I'm  sure,  he  has  a  right ! 

"  Those  know  I  who  would  give  their  eyes  to  be 

"  Sir  Thomas,  for  my  sake  ! 
"  Helen.  Such,  too,  know  I. 

"  But  'mong  them  none  can  compare  with  him, 

"  Not  one  so  graceful. 
"  Julia.  What  a  graceful  set 

"  Your  feather  has  ! 
"  Helen.  Nay,  give  it  back  to  me 

"  Unless  you  pay  me  for't. 
"  Julia.  .  What  was't  to  get  t 

"  Helen.  A  minute's  talk  with  thee  about  Sir  Thomas." 
Julia.  Talk  of  his  title  and  his  fortune  then. 
"  Clif.  (aside).  Indeed  !     I  would  not  listen,  yet  I  must ! 
"  Julia."  An  ample  fortune,  Helen  !     I  shall  be 

A  happy  wife  !     What  routs,  what  balls,  what  masques, 

What  gala  days  ! 
"  Clif.  (aside).  For  these  she  marries  me  ! 

"  She'll  talk  of  these  ! 
"  Julia."  Think  not,  when  I  am  wed, 

I'll  keep  the  house  as  owlet  does  her  tower. 

Alone — when  every  other  bird's  on  wing. 

I'll  use  my  palfrey,  Helen,  and  my  coach  ; 

My  barge,  too,  for  excursions  on  the  Thames  ; 

"  What  drives  to  Barnet,  Hackney,  Islington  !" 

What  rides  to  Epping,  Hounslow,  and  Blackheath  ! 

What  sails  to  Greenwich,  Woolwich,  Fulham,  Kew  ! 

I'll  set  a  pattern  to  your  lady  wives  ! 
Clif.  {aside,  k.  c).  Ay,  lady  ?    Trust  me,  not  at  my  expense. 
Julia.  And  what  a  wardrobe  !     I'll  have  change  of  suits 

For  every  day  in  the  year  !  and  sets  for  days  ! 

My  morning  dress,  my  noon  dress,  dinner  dress, 

And  evening  dress !     Then  will  I  show  you  lace 

A  foot  deep,  can  I  purchase  it ;  if  not, 

I'll  specially  bespeak  it.     Diamonds,  too ! 

Not  buckles,  rings,  and  earrings  only — but 

Whole  necklaces  and  stomachers  of  gems  ! 

I'll  shine  !  be  sure  I  will. 
"Clif.  {aside).  Then  shine  away j 


32  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  II. 

"  Who  covets  thee  may  wear  thee  ;  I'm  not  he  ! 

"  Julia.  And  then  my  title  !     Soon  as  I  put  on 
"  The  ring  I'm  Xady  Clifford.     So  I  take 
"  Precedence  of  plain  mistress,  were  she  e'en 
"  The  richest  heiress  in  the  land  !     At  town 
"  Or  country  ball  you'll  see  me  take  the  lead, 
"  While  wives  that  carry  on  their  backs  the  wealth 
"  To  dower  a  princess  shall  give  place  to  me ; — 
•'  Will  I  not  profit,  think  you,  by  my  right  1 
"  Be  sure  I  will  !     Marriage  shall  prove  to  me 
"  A  never-ending  pageant.     Every  day 
♦'  Shall  show  how  i  am  spoused  !"     I  will  be  known 
For  Lady  Cliflford  all  the  city  through, 
And  fiftv  miles  the  countrv  round  about. 
Wife  of  Sir  Thomas  Clifford,  baronet- 
Not  perishable  knight ;  who,  when  he  makes 
A  lady  of  me,  doubtless  must  expect 
To  see  me  play  the  part  of  one.  {crosses,  l.) 

Clip,  {comes  forward,  r.  c.)  Most  true. 

But  not  the  part  which  you  design  to  play. 

Julia.  A  lisi'ner,  sir  ! 

Clip.  By  chance  and  not  intent. 

He  pauses ;  Helen  exchanges  glances  with  him;  he  hows ;  she  returns  thi 
compliment,  and  exits,  b.  u.  e.,  leaving  Clifpord  r.  c,  Julia  l.  c. 

Your  speech  was  forced  upon  mine  ear,  that  ne'er 

More  thankless  duty  to  my  heart  discharged ! 

Would  for  that  heart  it  ne'er  had  known  the  sense 

Which  tells  it  'tis  a  bankrupt  there,  where  most 

It  coveted  to  be  rich,  and  thought  it  was  so  ! 

Oh,  Julia  !  is  it  you  1     Could  I  have  set 

A  coronet  upon  that  stately  brow, 

Where  partial  nature  hath  already  bound 

A  brighter  circlet — radiant  beauty's  own — 

I  had  been  proud  to  see  thee  proud  of  it — 

So  for  the  donor  thou  had'st  ta'en  the  gift, 

Not  for  the  gift  ta'en  him.     Could  I  have  poured 

The  wealth  of  richest  Croesus  in  thy  lap, 

I  had  been  blest  to  see  thee  scatter  it, 

So  I  were  still  thy  riches  paramount. 
Julia.  Know  you  me,  sir  ? 
Clip.  I  do !     On  Monday  week 

We  were  to  wed,  and  are,  so  you're  content 

The  day  that  weds,  wives  you  to  be  widowed.     Take 

The  privilege  of  my  wife  ;  be  Lady  CUfford  ! 

Outshine  thy  title  in  the  wearing  ou't ! 

My  coffers,  lands,  are  all  at  thy  command ; 

Wear  all !  but,  for  myself,  she  wears  not  me, 

"  Although  the  coveted  of  every  eye," 

Who  would  not  wear  me  for  myself  alone,  {crosses,  l.) 
Julia.  And  do  you  carry  it  so  proudly,  sir  ? 
Clip.  Proudly,  but  still  more  sorrowfully,  lady  ! 

I'll  lead  thee  to  the  church  on  Monday  week. 

Till  then,  farewell !  and  then— farewell  forever  !  {takes  off  his 
hat) 

Oh,  Julia,  I  have  ventured  for  thy  love, 


ACT  II.T  THE    HUNCHBACK.  33 

As  the  bold  merchant,  who,  for  only  hope 

Of  some  rich  gain,  all  former  gains  will  risk ! 

Before  I  asked  a  portion  of  thy  heart, 

I  periled  all  my  own,  and  now,  all's  lost ! 

[£xU.  L.  1  E.     ^' MoBV 8  follows  him.'^ 
Julia.  Helen !  (Helen  re-enters.) 
Helen.  What  ails  you,  sweet  1  , 

Julia.  I  cannot  biea the — quick,  loose  my  giidle,  oh!  {faints.    Wal- 
ter «??<;?  He  ARTWELL,  come  forward ) 
Walt.  Good  M.isl;^r  Heartwell,  lielp  to  tnke  her  in. 

Whilst  I  make  after  him — and  look  to  her  ! 

Unlucky  chance  that  took  me  out  of  town  ! 

[Hxit  Walter,  l.  1  e.     Heartwell  bears  off  Julia,  r.  2  e.,  Helen  fol- 

loiving. 

SCENE  lll^—The  street. 
Enter  Clifford,  l.,  and  Stephen,  r.,  meeting. 

Stephen.  Letters,  Sir  Thomas. 

Clif.  Take  them  home  again  ; 

I  shall  not  read  them  now. 

Steph.  Your  pardon,  sir, 

But  there  is  one  directed  strangely,  {examining  it.)  • 

Clif.  How  1 

Steph.  "  To  Master  Clifford,  gentleman;  now  styled 
Sir  Thomas  Chfford,  baronet." 

Clif.  Indeed ! 

Whence  comes  that  letter  1 

Steph.  From  abroad ! 

Clif.  Which  is  it  1 

.Steph.  So  please  you,  this.  Sir  Thomas. 

.'CiLiF,  Give  it  to  me.  {fokes  it  and  crosses,  l,,  reading.) 

Steph.  {aside).  That  letter  brings  not  news  to  wish  him  joy  upon.  If 
he  was  disturbed  before,  which  I  guessed  by  his  looks  he  was,  he  is  not 
more  at  ease  now.  His  hand  to  his  head  !  A  most  unwelcome  letter  ! 
If  it  brings  him  news  of  disaster,  fortune  does  not  give  him  his  deserts  ; 
for  never  waited  servant  upon  a  kinder  master.   • 

Clif.    Stephen ! 

Steph.  Sir  Thomas ! 

Clif.  From  my  door  remove 

The  plate  that  bears  my  name. 

Steph.  The  plate,  Sir  Thomas  1 

Clif.    The  plate.     Collect  my  servants  and  instruct  them 
All  to  make  out  their  claims  unto  the  end 
Of  their  respective  terms,  and  give  them  in 
To  my  steward.     Him  and  them  apprise,  good  fellow. 
That  I  keep  house  no  more.     "  As  you  go  home, 
"  Call  at  my  coachmaker's,  and  bid  him  stop 
"  The  carriage  I  bespoke.     The  one  I  have 
"  Send  with  my  horses  to  the  mart  whereat 
"Such  things  are  sold  by  auction — they're  for  Sale. 
"  Pack  up  my  wardrobe — have  my  trunks  conveyed 
"  To  the  inn  in  the  next  street  ' — and  when  that's  done, 

*  Scene  2  in  the  Union  Square  version. 


34  THE   HUNCHBACK.  "{aCT  II. 

Go  to  my  tradesmen,  and  collect  their  bills, 

And  bring  them  to  me  at  the  inn. 
Steph.  The  inn  ? 

Clip.   Yes  ;  T  go  home  no  more.     Why,  what's  the  matter  ? 

What  has  fallen  out  to  make  your  eyes  fill  up  1  ' 

You'll  get  another  place.     I'll  certify 

You're  honest  and  industrious,  and  all 

That  a  servant  ought  to  be. 
Steph.  I  see,  Sir  Thomas, 

Some  great  misfortune  has  befallen  you. 
Clip.  -  No ! 

I've  health ;  I've  strength ;  my  reason,  Stephen,  and 

A  heart  that's  clear  in  truth,  with  trust  in  God. 

No  great  disaster  can  befall  the  man 

Who's  still  possessed  of  these  !     "  Good  fellow,  leave  me  I 

"  What  you  would  learn,  and  have  a  right  to  know, 

"  I  would  not  tell  you  now.     Good  Stephen,  hence  !" 

Mischance  has  fallen  on  me — but  what  of  that  1 

Mischance  has  fallen  on  many  a  better  man. 

•'  I  prithee,  leave  me.     I  grow  sadder  while 

"  I  see  the  eye  with  which  you  view  my  grief. 

"  'Sdeath,  they  will  out !     I  would  have  been  a  man, 

"  Had  you  been  less  a  kind  and  gentle  one." 

Now,  as  you  love  me,  leave  me. 
Steph.  Never  master 

So  well  deserved  the  love  of  him  that  served  him. 

{Exit  Stephen,  b. 
Clip.  -Misfortune  liketh  c'ompany  ;  it  seldom 

Visits  its  friends  alone.     Ha,  Master  Walter, 

And  ruffled,  too  !     I'm  in  no  mood  for  him. 

Enter  Master  Walter,  l. 

Walt.  So,  sir — Sir  Thomas  Clifford — what  with  speed 

And  choler — [  do  gasp  for  want  of  breath  ! 
Clip.    Well,  Master  Walter  1 
Walt.  You're  a  rash  young  man,  sir  ! 

Strong-headed  and  wrong-headed — and  I  fear,  sir. 

Not  over  delicate  in  that  fine  sense 

Which  men  of  honor  pride  themselves  upon,  sir  ! 
Clip.    Well,  Master  Walter  1 
Walt.  A  young  woman's  heart,  sir. 

Is  not  a  stone  to  carve  a  posy  on ! 

Which  knows  not  what  is  writ  on't — which  you  may  buy, 

Exchange,  or  sell,  sir — keep  or  give  away,  sir ; 

It  is  a  richei-.  yet  a  poorer  thing  ! 

Priceless  to  him  that  owns  and  prizes  it ; 

Worthless  when  owned,  not  prized  ;  which  makes  the  man 

That  covets  it,  obtains  it,  and  discards  it — 

A  fool,  if  not  a  villain,  sir ! 
Clip.  Well,  sir  7 

Walt.  You  never  loved  my  ward,  sir  ! 
Clip.  The  bright  heavens,  sir, 

Bear  witness  that  I  did ! 
Walt.  The  bright  heavens,  sir, 

Bear  not  false  witness.     That  you  loved  her  not 

Is  clear — for  had  you  loved  her,  you'd  have  plucked 


ACT  II.]  THE  HUNCHBACK.  35 

Your  heart  from  out  your  breast,  'ere  cast  her  from  your  heart ! 

Old  as  I  am,  f  know  what  passion  is. 

"  It  is  the  bUiijiuei  'b  heat,  sir,  which  in  vain 

'•  We  look  for  frost  in  !     Ice,  like  you,  sir,  knows 

But  little  of  such  heat !"     We're  wronged,  sir,  wronged  1 

"  You  wear  a  sword,  and  so  do  I ! 

*'Clif.  Well,  sir! 

**  Walt.  You  know  the  use,  sir,  of  a  sword  ?" 

Clip.  "  I  do. 

♦'  To  whip  a  knave,  sir,  or  an  honest  man — 
"  A  wise  man  or  a  fool — atone  for  wrong, 
"  Or  double  the  amount  on't."     Master  Walter,* 
Touching  your  ward,  if  wrong  is  done,  I  think 
On  my  side  lies  the  grievance.     "  I  would  not  say  so 
*'  Did  I  not  think  so."     As  for  love — look,  sir, 
That  hand's  a  widower's,  to  its  first  mate  sworn 
To  clasp  no  second  one.     As  for  amends,  sir. 
You're  free  to  get  them  from  a  man  in  whom 
You've  been  forestalled  by  fortune,  "  in  the  spite 
"Which  she  has  vented  on  him,  if  you  still 
"  Esteem  him  worth  your  anger."     Please  you  read 
That  letter,  {hands  letter)  Now,  sir,  judge  if  life  is  dear, 
To  one  so  much  a  loser. 

Walt.  What,  all  gone  ! 

Thy  cousin  living  they  reported  dead ! 

Clip.    Title  and  land,  sir,  unto  which,  add  love ; 

All  gone,  save  life — and  honor — which,  ere  I'll  lose, 
I'll  let  the  other  go ! 

Walt.  We're  public  here. 

And  may  be  interrupted.     Let  us  seek 
Some  spot  of  privacy.     Your  letter,  sir !  (pives  it  back) 
Tho'  fortune  slights  you,  I'll  not  slight  you  !    Not 
Your  title  or  the  lack  of  it  I  heed. 
Whether  upon  the  score  of  love  or  hate. 
With  you,  and  you  alone,  I  settle,  sir ! 
We've  gone  too  far.     'Twere  folly  now  to  part 
Without  a  reckoning. 

Clip.  Just  as  you  please. 

Walt.  Yoa've  done  a  noble  lady  wrong. 

Clip.  That  lady 

Has  done  me  wrong. 

Walt.  Go  to  !     Thou  art  a  boy 

Fit  to  be  trusted  with  a  plaything,  not 
A  woman's  heart !     Thou  know'st  not  what  it  is  ! 
Which  I  will  soon  prove  to  thee,  soon  as  we  find 
Convenient  place.     Come  on,  sir  !  you  shall  get 
A  lesson  that  shall  serve  you  for  the  rest 
0'  your  life.     I'll  make  you  own,  her,  sir,  a  piece 
Of  Nature's  handiwork,  as  costly,  free 
From  bias,  flaw,  and  fair  as  ever  j^et 
Her  cunning  hand  turned  out.     Come  on,  sir  — come  ! 

[Exeunt,  l. 

CURTAIN.f 

♦  Clifford's  reply  commences  here  in  the  representation— his  cue  being,  Wronged,  sir^ 
wrong  ■<! ! 

t  r.iis  Scene  ends  Act  III.  in  the  U  nion  Square  version,  and  the  Fourth  Act 
commences  with  Scene  2  of  the  next  Act.  The  first  Scene  is  entirely  omitted  in  that 
version,  and  I  have  seen  it  done  also  where  the  original  version  was  played. 


30  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  II 

ACT  III. 

SCENE  I. — A  drawing-room. 

Enter  Lord  Tinsel  and  the  Earl  of  Rochdale,  l. 

Tinsel.  Refuse  a  lord  !     A  saucy  lady,  this . 
I  scarce  can  credit  it. 

RocH.  She'll  change  her  mind. 

My  agent,  Master  Walter,  is  her  guardian. 

Tin.     How  can  you  keep  that  Hunchback  in  his  office  7 
He  mocks  you. 

RocH.  He  is  useful.     Never  heed  him. 

My  offer  now  do  I  present  through  him. 
He  has  the  title-deeds  of  my  estates. 
She'll  listen  to  their  wooing.     I  must  have  her, 
Not  that  I  love  her,  but  that  all  allow 
She's  fairest  of  the  fair. 

Tin.  Distinguish  well ; 

'Twere  most  unseemly  for  a  lord  to  love  ! 
Leave  that  to  commoners.     'Tis  vulgar.     She's 
Betrothed,  you  tell  me,  to  Sir  Thomas  Clifford  1 

RocH.  Yes  ! 

Tin.  That  a  commoner  should  thwart  a  lord! 

Yet  not  a  commoner.     A  baronet 
Is  fish  and  flesh.     Nine  parts  plebeian,  and 
Patrician  in  the  tenth.     Sir  Thomas  Clifford ! 
A  man,  they  say,  of  brains.     I  abhor  brains 
As  I  do  tools !     They're  things  mechanical. 
So  far  as  we  above  our  forefathers — 
They  to  their  brains  did  owe  their  titles  as 
Do  lawyers,  doctors.     We  to  nothing  owe  them, 
Which  makes  us  far  the  nobler. 

RocH.  Is  it  so  ? 

Tin.    Believe  me.    You  shall  profit  by  my  training ; 
You  grow  a  lord  apace.    I  saw  you  meet 
A  bevy  of  your  former  friends,  who  fain 
Had  shaken  hands  with  you.     You  gave  them  fingers  I 
You're  now  another  man.     Yonr  house  is  changed — 
Your  table  changed — your  retinue — your  horse — 
Where  once  you  rode  a  hack,  you  now  back  blood — 
Befits  it  then  you  also  change  your  friends ! 

Enter  Williams,  l. 

Williams.  A  gentleman  would  see  your  Lordship. 

Tin.  Sir  ? 

What's  that  1  {crosses  to  Williams.) 

WiL.  A  gentleman  would  see  his  Lordship ! 

Tin.      How  know  you,  sir,  his  Lordship  is  at  home  1 
Is  he  at  home  because  he  goes  not  out  1 
He's  not  at  home,  though  there  you  see  him,  sir, 
Unless  he  certify  that  he's  at  home  ! 
Bring  up  the  name  of  the  gentleman,  and  then 
Your  lord  will  know  if  he's  at  home  or  not. 

[Exit  WilliAmSj  l. 


ACT  m.]  THE   HUNCHBA.CK.  37 

Your  man  was  porter  to  some  merchant's  door, 
Who  never  taught  him  better  breeding  than 
To  speak  the  vulgar  truth.     Well,  sir  ? 

Williams  re-enters. 

^"'.  His  name, 

So  please  your  Lordship,  Markham. 

Tix.  Do  you  know 

The  thing? 

RocH.  Right  well.    I'  faith,  a  hearty  fellow. 

Son  to  a  worthy  tradesman,  "who  would  do 
"  Great  things  with  little  means  ;  so  entered  him 
"  In  the  Temple.     A  good  fellow,  on  ray  life, 
"  Naught  smacking  of  his  stock !" 

Tin.  You've  said  enough ! 

His  Lordship's  not  at  home.  [Exit  Williams,  l- 

"  We  do  not  go 
"  By  hearts,  but  orders  !"     Had  he  family- 
Blood — tho'  it  only  were  a  drop — his  heart 
Would  pass  for  something ;  lacking  such  desert, 
Were  it  ten  times  the  heart  it  is,  'tis  naught ! 

Williams  re-enters. 

WiL.    One  Master  Jones  hath  asked  to  see  your  Lordship, 

Tin.     And  what  was  your  reply  to  Master  Jones  1 

WiL.    I  knew  not  if  his  Lordship  was  at  home. 

Tin.     You'll  do.    Who's  Master  Jones  ? 

1^0 OH.  A  curate's  son. 

Tin.     a  curate's  1     Better  be  a  yeoman's  son  ! 

"  Were  it  the  rector's  son,  he  might  be  known, 

"  Because  the  rector  is  a  rising  man, 

"  And  may  become  a  bishop.     He  goes  light. 

"  The  curate  ever  hath  a  loaded  back. 

"He  may  be  called  the  yeoman  of  the  church 

"  That  sweating  does  his  work,  and  drudges  on 

"  While  lives  the  hopeful  rector  at  his  ease." 

How  made  you  his  acquaintance,  pray  1 
RocH.  We  read 

Latin  and  Greek  together. 
Tin.  Dropping  them — 

As,  now  that  you're  a  lord,  of  course  you've  done- 
Drop  him.     You'll  say  his  Lordship's  not  at  home. 
WiL.    So  please  your  Lordship,  I  forgot  to  say, 

One  Richard  Cricket  likewise  is  below. 
Tin.    Who  ?     Richard  Cricket  %     You  must  see  him,  Rochdale  I 

A  noble  little  fellow.    A  great  man,  sir  ! 

Not  knowing  whom,  you  would  be  nobody  ! 

I  won  five  thousand  pounds  by  him  ! 
RocH.  Who  is  he  1 

I  never  heard  of  him  ! 
Tin.  What,  never  heard 

Of  Richard  Cricket !  never  heard  of  him  1 

Why,  he's  the  jockey  of  Newmarket ;  you 

May  win  a  cup  by  him,  or  else  a  sweepstakes. 

I  bade  him  call  upon  you.    You  must  see  him. 


38  THE   HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  III. 

His  Lordship  is  at  home  to  Richard  Cricket. 
RocH.  Bid  him  wait  in  the  ante-room.  (Williams  ^o^«  L.) 
Tin.  The  ante-room  1 

The  best  room  in  your  house !     You  do  not  kno\y 
The  use  of  Richard  Cricket !    Show  him,  sir, 
Into  the  drawing-room.  [Hxit  Williams,  l. 

Your  Lordship  needs 
Must  keep  a  racing  stud,  and  you'll  do  well 
To  make  a  friend  of  Richard  Cricket.     '*  Well,  sir, 
"  What's  that  -? 

"  Williams  re-enters. 

"  WiL.  So  please  your  Lordship,  a  petition. 

Tin.     Had'st  not  a  service  'mongst  the  Hottentots 

"Ere  thou  cam'st  hither,  friend  T    Present  thy  lord 

"  With  a  petition  !     At  mechanics'  doors, 

"  At  tradesmens',  shopkeepers',  and  merchants'  only, 

"  Have  such  things  leave  to  knock.     Make  thy  lord's  gate 

"  A  wicket  to  a  vporkhouse  !     Let  us  see  it — 

"  Subscriptions  to  a  book  of  poetry  ! 

"  Who  heads  the  list  1     Cornelius  Tense,  A.M. 

"  Which  means  he  construes  Greek  and  Latin,  works 

"  Problems  in  mathematics,  can  chop  logic, 

"  And  is  a  conjurer  in  philosophy, 

"  Both  natural  and  moral.     Pshaw  !  a  man 

"  Whom  nobody,  that  is,  anybody,  knows. 

*'  Who,  think  you,  follows  him  1    Why,  ah  M.D., 

"  An  F.R  S.,  and  F.A.S.,  and  then 

"  A  D.D.,  Doctor  of  Divinity, 

**  Ushering  in  an  LL.D  ,  which  means 

*'  Doctor  of  Laws — their  harmony,  no  doubt, 

**  The  difference  of  their  trades  !    There's  nothing  hero 

"  But  languages,  and  sciences,  and  arts, 

"  Not  an  iota  of  nobility  ! 

"  We  cannot  give  our  names.     Take  back  the  paper, 

"  And  tell  the  bearer  there's  no  answer  for  him— 

"  That  is  the  lordly  way  of  saying  '  No.' 

"  But  talking  of  subscriptions,  here  is  one 

"  To  which  your  Lordship  may  aflSx  your  name. 
"RocH.  Pra^,  who's  the  object  ? 
"  Tin.  A  most  worthy  raan ! 

"  A  man  of  singular  deserts ;  a  man, 

"  In  serving  whom,  your  Lordship  will  serve  me— 

"  Signor  Cantata. 
"  RocH.  He's  a  friend  of  yours  1 

'*  Tin.  Oh,  no ;  I  know  him  hot !     I've  not  the  pleasure  ! 

"  But  Lady  Dangle  knows  him ;  she's  his  friend. 

*'  He  will  oblige  us  with  a  set  of  concerts, 

"  Six  concerts  to  the  set. — The  set  thtee  guineas. 

"  Your  Lordship  will  subscribe  1 
"  RocH.  Oh,  by  all  means  ! 

"  Tin.  How  many  sets  of  tickets  1     Two  at  least.  ,jt 

"  You'll  like  to  take  a  friend  ?     I'll  set  you  down 
"  Six  guineas  to  Signor  Cantata's  concerts.' ' 

And  now,  my  Lord,  we'll  to  him— then  we'll  ;^alk. 
RocH.  Nay,  I  would  wait  the  lady's  answer. 
Tin.  .  Wait! 


ACT  III.]  THE   HUXCHBA.CK.  39 

Take  an  excursion  to  the  country ;  let 

Her  answer  wait  for  you. 
RocH.  Indeed ! 

Tin.  Indeed ! 

Befits  a  lord  naught  like  indifference. 

Say  an  estate  should  fall  to  you,  you'd  take  it, 

As  it  concerned  more  a  stander-by 

Than  you.     As  you're  a  lord,  be  sure  you  ever 

Of  that  make  little  other  men  make  much  of; 

Nor  do  the  thing  they  do,  but  right  contrary. 

Where  the  distinction  else  'twixt  them  and  you  1   [Exeunt,  l. 

SCENE  II.* — An  apartment  in  Master  Heartwell's  home. 

Master  Walter  discovered,  seated  l.  of  table,  looking  through  title-deeds 
and  papers. 

yj k'Li.  So  falls  out  every  thing  as  I  would  have  it, 

Exact  in  place  and  time.     This  lord's  advances 
Receives  she — as,  I  augur,  in  the  spleen 
Of  wounded  pride  she  will— my  course  is  clear. 
She  comes — all's  well — the  tempest  rages  still. 

Julia  enters,  l.,  and  paces  the  room  in  a  state  of  high  eatcitement, 

Julia.  What  have  my  eyes  to  do  with  water  1     Fire 
Becomes  them  better  !  (crosses,  r.) 

Walt.  True ! 

Julia.  Yet,  must  I  weep 

To  be  so  monitor'd,  and  by  a  man  ! 
A  man  that  was  my  slave !  whom  I  have  seen 
Kneel  at  my  feet  from  morn  till  noon,  content 
With  leave  to  only  gaze  upon  my  face,  {crosses,  l., 
"  And  tell  me  what  he  read  there — till  the  page 
*'  I  knew  by  heart,  I  'gan  to  doubt  I  knew 
"  Emblazoned  by  the  comment  of  his  tongue  !" 
And  he  to  lesson  me !     Let  him  come  here 
On  Monday  week  !     He  ne'er  leads  me  to  church  ! 
"  I  would  not  profit  by  his  rank  or  wealth, 
"  Tho'  kings  might  call  him  cousin,  for  their  sake!" 
I'll  show  him  I  have  pride!  (crosses,  r.) 

Walt.  You're  very  right ! 

Julia.  He  would  have  had  to-day  our  wedding  day ! 

I  fixed  a  month  from  this.     He  prayed  and  prayed — 
I  dropped  a  week.     He  prayed  and  prayed  the  more — 
I  dropped  a  second  one.     Still  more  he  prayed ! 
And  I  took  off  another  week — and  now 
I  have  his  leave  to  wed  or  not  to  wed ! 
He'll  see  that  I  have  pride  ! 

Walt.  And  so  he  ought 

Julia.  Oh  !  for  some  way  to  bring  hini  to  my  feet ! 

But  he  should  lie  there  !     Why,  'twill  go  abroad 
That  he  cast  me  off !     That  there  should  live 

*  In  tlie  Uixlon  Square  version  the  Fourth  Act  commences  with  this  Scene,  \rbkh 
M  laid  in  He^well's  Ubrary. 


40  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  III. 

The  ifian  could  say  so  !     Or  that  I  should  live 

To  be  the  leavings  of  a  man  !  (crosses,  l.) 
Walt.  Thy  case 

I  own  a  hard  one. 
Julia.  Hard  !    'Twill  drive  me  mad ! 

His  wealth  and  title  !     I  refused  a  lord — 

I  did  !  that  privily  implored  my  hand — 

And  never  cared  to  tell  him  on't !     So  much 

I  hate  him  now,  that  lord  should  not  in  vain  I 

Implore  my  hand  again  !  ' 

Walt..  You'd  give  it  him  1  {rising.) 

Julia.  I  would ! 

Walt.  You'd  wed  that  lord  ?  (advances,  l.)  \ 

Julia  (r.).  That  lord  I'd  wed — or  any  other  lord — 

Only  to  show  him  I  could  wed  above  him ! 
Walt.  Give  me  your  hand  and  word  to  that. 
Julia.  There !     Take 

My  hand  and  word ! 
Walt.  That  lord  hath  offered  you 

His  hand  again, 
Julia.  He  has  1 

Walt.  Your  father  knows  it ;  he  approves  of  him. 

There  are  the  title-deeds  of  the  estates,  (^points  to  table) 

Sent  for  my  jealous  scrutiny.    All  sound — 

No  flaw  or  speck,  that  e'en  the  lynx-eyed  law 

Itself  could  find.     A  lord  of  many  lands ! 

In  Berkshire  half  a  county  ;  and  the  same 

In  Wiltshire,  and  in  Lancashire  !     Across 

The  Irish  Sea,  a  principality  ! 

And  not  a  rood  with  bond  or  lien  on  it ! 

Wilt  give  that  lord  a  wife  1    Wilt  make  thyself 

A  countess  1     Here's  the  proffer  of  his  hand,  (shows  letter) 

Write  thou  content,  and  wear  a  coronet  f 
Julia  {eagerly).  Give  me  the  paper  ! 

Walt.  There  !     Here's  pen  and  ink.  ( goes  up  l.  of 

table  and  lays  the  letter  down  for  her  to  sign) 

Sit  down,  [points  to  chair,  r.  of  table-     -Tulia  takes  the  seat)  Why 
do  you  pause  1     A  flourish  of 

The  pen,  and  you're  a  countess. 
Julia.  ''  My  poor  brain 

"  Whirls  round  and  round !"     I  would  not  wed  him'now 

Were  he  more  lowlv  at  my  feet  to  sue 

Than  e'er  he  did. 
Walt.  Wed  whom? 

Julia.  Sir  Thomas  Clifford ! 

Walt.  You're  right. 
Julia,  "  His  rank  and  wealth  are  roots  to  doubt, 

'*  And  while  they  lasted,  still  the  weed  would  grow, 

" Howe'er  you  plucked  it.     No!     That's  o'er — that's  done  !'*' 

Was  never  lady  wronged  so  foul  as  I !  (weeps.) 
Walt.  Thou'rt  to  be  pitied, 
3vh\A.  (with  offended  pride).    Pitied!     Not  so  bad 

As  that. 
Walt.  Indeed  thou  art,  to  love  the  man 

That  spurns  thee  ! 
Julia.  Love  him !    Love  !     If  hate  could  find 

A  word  more  harsh  than  its  own  name,  I'd  take  it, 


ACT  III.]  THE    HU^JCHBACK.  41 

To  speak  the  love  I  bear  him  !  {weeps.) 

Walt,  Write  thy  own  name, 

And  show  how  near  akin  thy  hate's  to  hate  ! 

Julia  {writes).  'Tis  done  ! 

Walt.  'Tis  well !     I'll  come  to  you  anon. 

[Takes  the  paper  hastily,  and  exits,  L.  2  B. 

Julia  (alone).  I'm  glad  'tis  done  !     I'm  very  glad  'tis  done! 
I've  done  the  thing  I  should.     From  my  disgrace 
This  lord  shall  lift  me  'bove  the  reach  of  scorn — 
"  That  idly  wags  its  tongue,  where  wealth  and  state 
"  Need  only  beckon  to  have  crowds  to  laud!" 
Then  how  the  tables  change  !     The  hand  he  spurned 
His  betters  take  !     Let  me  remember  that ! 
I'll  grace  my  rank  !     I  will !     I'll  carry  it 
As  I  were  born  to  it !     I  warrant  none 
Shall  say  it  fits  me  not — but  one  and  all 
Confess  I  wear  it  bravely,  as  I  ought. 
And  he  shall  hear  it !  ay,  and  he  shall  see  it  I 
I  will  roll  by  him  in  an  equipage 
Would  mortgage  his  estate — but  he  shall  own 
His  slight  of  me  was  my  advancement !     Love  me  ? 
He  never  loved  me  !  if  he  had  he  ne'er 
Had  given  me  up  !     Love's  not  a  spider's  web, 
But  fit  to  mesh  a  fly — that  you  can  break 
By  only  blowing  on't !     He  never  loved  me  ! 
He  knows  not  what  love  is — or,  if  he  does, 
He  has  not  been  o'er  chary  of  his  peace  ! 
And  that  he'll  find  when  I'm  another's  wife,  {a  pause) 
Lost ! — lost  to  him  forever  !  (rises,  and  advances)  Tears  again  ! 
Why  should  I  weep  for  him  ?     Who  make  their  woes 
Deserve  them  !     What  have  I  to  do  with  tears  ? 

JEnter  Helen,  l. 

Helen.  News,  Juha,  news  ! 

Julia.  What !     Is't  about  Sir  Thomas  1 

Helen.  Sir  Thomas,  say  you  1     He's  no  more  Sir  Thomas  ! 

That  cousin  lives,  as  heir  to  whom,  his  wealth 

And  title  came  to  him. 
Julia.  Was  he  not  dead  1 

Helen.  No  more  than  I  am  dead. 

Julia.  I  would  'twere  not  so  I  (thet/  cross.) 

Helen.  What  say  you,  Julia  ? 
Julia.  Nothing ! 

"  Helen.  I  could  kiss 

"  That  cousin  !  couldn't  you.  Julia  1 
"  JuLLA..  Wherefore  ? 

"Helen.  Why, 

"  For  coming  back  to  life  again,  as  'twere 

"  Upon  his  cousin,  to  revenge  you. 
"Julia.  Helen!" 

Helen  (with  merry  irony  throughout).  Indeed,  'tis  true.     With  what  a 
sorry  grace 

The  gentleman  will  bear  himself  without 

His  title  !     Master  Clifford  !     Have  you  not 

Some  token  to  return  him  1     Some  love-letter  1 

Some  brooch  ]     Some  pin  1     Some  anything  1    I'll  be 


42  THE   HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  III, 

Your  messenger,  for  nothing  but  the  pleasure 

Of  calling  him  plain  "  Master  Cliflfbrd." 
Julia  {angrily,  and  offended).  Helen! 

Helen.  Or  has  he  aught  of  thine  %     Write  to  him,  Julia, 

Demanding  it.     Do,  Julia,  if  you  love  me  ; 

And  I'll  direct  it  in  a  schoolboy's  hand. 

As  round  as  I  can  write  "  To  Master  Cliflford." 
Julia.  Helen! 

Helen.  I'll  think  of  fifty  thousand  ways 

To  mortify  him  !     I've  a  twentieth  cousin, 

A  care-for-naught  at  mischief.     Him  I'll  set, 

With  twenty  other  madcaps  like  himself. 

To  walk  the  streets  the  traitor  most  frequents, 

And  give  him  salutation  as  he  passes — 

"  How  do  you,  Master  Clifford  '?" 
Julia  {highly  incensed).  Helen  ! 

Helen.  Bless  me ! 

Julia.  I  hate  you,  Helen  !  {she  crosses  to  k.,  and  sinks  on  chair.) 

Enter  Modus,  l.  1  e. 

Mod.  Joy  for  you,  fair  lady! 

Our  baronet  is  now  plain  gentleman, 
And  hardly  that— not  master  of  the  means 
To  bear  himself  as  such  !     The  kinsman  lives 
Whose  only  rumored  death  gave  wealth  to  him, 
And  title.     A  hard  creditor  he  proves. 
Who  keeps  strict  reckoning — will  have  interest, 
As  well  as  principal.     A  ruined  man 
Is  now  Sir  Thomas  Clifford. 

Helen.  I'm  glad  on't. 

Mod.    And  so  am  I.     A  scurvy  trick  it  was 

He  served  you,  madam.     Use  a  lady  so ! 
I  merely  bore  with  him.     I  never  liked  him. 

Helen.  No  more  did  I.     No,  never  could  I  think 
lie  looked  his  title. 

Mod.  No,  nor  acted  it. 

If  rightly  they  report.     "  He  ne'er  disbursed 

"  To  entertain  his  friends,  'tis  broadly  said, 

"  A  hundred  pounds  in  the  year."     He  was  most  poor 

In  the  appointments  of  a  man  of  rank, 

Possessing  wealth  like  his.     "  His  horses,  hacks  ! 

♦'His  gentleman,  a  footman  !  and  his  footman, 

"  A  groom  !     The  sports  that  men  of  quality 

"  And  spirit  countenance,  he  kept  aloof  from ; 

"  From  scruple  of  economy,  not  taste — 

"  As  facing  and  the  like."     In  brief,  he  lacked 

Those  shining  points,  that  more  than  name,  denote 

High  breeding ;  and,  moreover,  was  a  man 

Of  very  shallow  learning. 

Julia  {rising^  angrily).  Silence,  sir  ! 

For  shame ! 

Helen.  Why,  Julia  ? 

Julia  {advancing).  Speak  not  to  me  !    Poor, 

Most  poor  I     I  tell  you,  sir,  he  was  the  making 
Of  fifty  gentlemen — each  one  of  whom 
Were  more  than  peer  for  thee  I    His  title,  sir, 


A.CT  III.]  THE   HUNCHBACK.  4B 

Lent  him  no  grace  he  did  not  pay  it  back ! 

Tho'  it  had  been  the  highest  of  the  high, 

He  would  have  looked  it,  felt  it,  acted  it. 

As  thou  couldst  ne'er  have  done !     When  found  you  out 

You  liked  him  not  1     It  was  not  e'er  to-day  ! 

"  Or  that  base  spirit  I  must  reckon  yours, 

"  Which  smiles  where  it  would  scowl — can  stoop  to  hate, 

"  And  fear  to  show  it !'     He  was  your  better,  sir, 

And  is  !     Ay,  is  !  though  stripped  of  rank  and  wealth, 

His  nature's  'bove  our  fortune's  love  or  spite, 

To  blazon  or  to  blur  it  1   (retiring  up  c.) 

Mod.  {crosses  to  Helen).  I  was  told 

Much  to  disparage  him — I  know  not  wherefore. 

Helen.  And  so  was  I,  and  know  as  much  the  cause.  (Modus  atui 
Helen  ffo  up,  c.     Julia  comes  down,  r.) 

Ee-enter  Master  Walter,  with  parchments, 

Walt.  Joy,  my  Julia!  {crosses  to  her.) 

Impatient  love  has  foresight !     Lo  you  here. 

The  marriage  deed's  filled  up,  except  a  blank 

To  write  your  jointure.     What  you  will,  my  girl! 

Is  this  a  lover  ?     Look !     Three  thousand  pounds 

Per  annum  for  your  private  charges !     Ha ! 

There's  pin  money  !     Is  this  a  lover  1     Mark 

What  acres,  forests,  tenements,  are  taxed 

For  your  revenue,  and  so  set  apait 

That  finger  cannot  touch  them,  save  thine  own.  (Julia  striving 
to  conceal  her  emotion,  sinks  on  chair,  r.) 

Is  this  a  lover  ?     What  good  fortune's  thine! 

Thou  dost  not  speak  ;  but  'tis  the  w;ay  with  joy  ! 

With  richest  heart,  it  has  the  poorest  tongue !  (Modus  cornea 
down  R.  of  Julia.) 
Mod.    What  great  good  fortune's  this  you  speak  of,  sir  1 
Walt.  A  coronet,  Master  Modus !     You  behold 

The  wife  elect,  sir,  of  no  less  a  man, 

Than  the  new  Earl  of  Rochdale— heir  of  him. 

That's  recently  deceased.  (Modus  retires,  and  rejoins  Helen.) 
"  Helen.  My  dearest  Julia, 

"  Much  joy  to  you  ! 
"  Mod.  All  good  attend  you,  ]\iadam  1 

"  Walt."  This  letter  brings  excuses  from  his  Lordship, 

Whose  absence  it  accounts  for.  .  He  repairs 

To  his  estate  in  Lancashire,  and  thither 

We  follow.     ,  .      J  •    .  ,  vA- 

JuLiA.  When,  sir  1  (rises.     Helen  iand  Modus  ai  back,  r., 

converse.) 
Walt.  Now.     This  very  hour  ! 

Julia.  This  very  hour  !     Oh,  cruel,  fatal  haste! 
Walt.  i.l.  o).  Oh,  cruel,  fatal  haste  !     What  meanest  thoul 

Have  I  done  wrong  to  do  thy  bidding,  then  1 

I've  done  no  more.     Thou  wast  an  off-cast  bride, 

And  would' St  be  an  aflSanced  one— thou  art  so  ! 

Thou'dst  have  the  slight  that  marked  thee  out  for  scorn 

Converted  to  a  means  of  gracing  thee — 

It  is  so  !     "  If  our  wishes  come  too  soon, 

'  What  can  make  sure  of  welcome  1    In  my  zeal 


44  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [ACT  III, 

"  To  win  thee  thine,  thou  know'st,  at  any  time 
"  I'd  play  the  steed,  whose  will  to  serve  his  lord 
"With  his  last  breath  gives  his  last  bound  for  him  ! 
"  Since  only  noon  have   dispatched  what  well 
"  Had  kept  a  brace  of  clerks,  and  more,  on  foot — 
"  And  then,  perhaps,  had  been  to  do  again — 
"  Not  finished  sure,  complete — the  compact  firm, 
"As  fate  itself  had  sealed  it! 

"  Julia.  Give  you  thanks ! 

"  Tho'  'twere  my  death !  my  death ! 

"Walt.  Thy  death!     Indeed, 

"  For  happiness  like  this,  one  well  might  die !" 
Take  thy  lord's  letter. 

Enter  Thomas  with  letter,  l.  1  e. 

Wein 
Thom.  This  letter,  sir, 

The  gentleman  that  served  Sir  Thomas  Clifford — 

Or  him  that  was  Sir  Thomas — gave  to  me, 

For  Mistress  Julia. 
Julia.  Give  it  me  !  {throwing  away  the  one  she  holds.) 

Walt,  {snatching  it).  For  what !  [Exit  Thomas,  l.  1  e. 

Would'st  read  it  1     He's  a  bankrupt !  stripped  of  title, 

House,  chattels,  lands  and  all !     A  naked  bankrupt, 

With  neither  purse  nor  trust !     Would'st  read  his  letter  1 

A  beggar  !    Yea,  a  beggar  !  fasts,  unless 

He  dines  on  alms !     "  How  durst  he  send  thee  a  letter  1 

"  A  fellow  cut  on  this  hand,  and  on  that, 

"  Bows,  and  is  cut  again,  and  bows  again  ! 

"  Who  pays  you  fifty  smiles  for  half  a  one — 

"  And  that  given  grudgingly."     To  send  you  a  letter  ! 

I  burst  with  choler.     Thus  I  treat  his  letter  !  {tears  and  throws 
it  on  the  ground,  and  crosses  to  and  fro) 

So  !     I  was  wrong  to  let  him  ruffle  me  ; 

He  is  not  worth  the  spending  anger  on  ! 

I  prithee.  Master  Modus,  use  dispatch,  (Modus   and  Helen 
advance) 

And  presently  make  ready  for  our  ride. 

You,  Helen,  to  my  Julia  look — a  change 

Of  dresses  will  suffice.     She  must  have  new  ones, 

Matches  for  her  new  state  !     Haste,  friends  ! 

[Exit  Modus,  k.  1  e.     Helen  pauses  at  entrance. 

My  Julia ! 

Why  stand  you  poring  there  upon  the  ground  ? 

Time  flies.    Your  rise  astounds  you  %    Never  heed — 

You'll  play  my  lady  countess  like  a  queen  ! 

CURTAIN.* 


*  This  Scene  ends  the  Fourth  Act  in  the  Union  Square  venioQ. 


ACT  IT.]  THE   HUNCHBACK.  46 

ACT  IV  * 

SCENE  I. — A  room  in  the  Earl  of  Rochdalb'S. 

Enter  Helen,  l.  c. 

Helen.  I'm  weary  wandering  from  room  to  room ; 
A  castle  after  all  is  but  a  house — 
The  dullest  one  when  lacking  company  ! 
Were  I  at  home  I  could  be  company 
Unto  myself.     "  I  see  not  Master  Walter. 
"  He's  ever  with  his  ward.     I  see  not  her. 
"  By  Master  Walter  will  she  bide,  alone. 
"  My  father  stops  in  town.     I  can't  see  him. 
*•  My  cousin  makes  his  books  his  company." 
I'll  go  to  bed  and  sleep.     No — I'll  stay  up 
And  plague  my  cousin  into  making  love! 
For  that  he  loves  me  shrewdly  I  suspect. 
How  dull  he  is  that  hath  not  sense  to  see 
What  lies  before  him,  and  he'd  like  to  find  ! 
I'll  change  my  treatment  of  him — cross  him,  where 
Before  I  used  to  humor  him.     He  comes, 
Poring  upon  a  book. 

Enter  Modus,  l.  c,  reading  booh 

What's  that  you  read  1 
Mod.    Latin,  sweet  cousin. 
Helen.  'Tis  a  naughty  tongue 

I  fear,  and  teaches  men  to  lie. 
Mod.  To  lie! 

Helen.  You  study  it.     You  call  your  cousin  sweet, 

And  treat  her  as  you  would  a  crab.     "  As  sour 

"  'Twould  seem  you  think  her,  so  you  covet  her  ! 

"  Why,  how  the  monster  stares,  and  looks  about!" 

You  construe  Latin,  and  can't  construe  that  ? 
Mod.    I  never  studied  women. 
Helen.  No  ;  nor  men. 

Else  would  you  better  know  their  ways  ;  nor  read 

In  presence  of  a  lady,  {strikes  the  book  from  his  hand.) 
Mod.  Right,  you  say, 

And  well  you  served  me,  cousin,  so  to  strike 

The  volume  from  my  hand.     I  own  my  fault. 

So  please  you — may  I  pick  it  up  again  ? 

I'll  put  it  in  my  pocket  I 
Helen.  Pick  it  up. 

{aside)  He  fears  me  as  I  were  his  grandmother  ! 

{aloud)  What  is  the  book  1 
Mod.  'Tis  Ovid's  Art  of  Love. 

Helen.  That  Ovid  was  a  fool ! 
Mod.  In  what  1 

Helen.  In  that; 

♦  The  Fifth  Act  in  the  Union  Square  version  commences  with  this  Scene,  which  is 
transferred  to  a  grand  saloon  in  the  Earl  of  ^Boohdale's  house— and  forms  also  the 
Scene  for  the  Sixth  and  last  Act. 


46  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [a.CT  IV. 

To  call  that  thing  an  art,  which  art  is  none. 
Mod.  And  is  not  love  an  art  1 
Helen.  Are  yon  a  fool, 

As  well  as  Ovid  ?     Love  an  art  7     No  art 

But  taketh  time  and  pains  to  learn.    Love  coijaw 

With  neither.     Is't  to  hoard  such  grain  as  that,  t 

You  went  to  college  1     Better  stay  at  home, 

And  study  homely  English. 
Mod.  Nay,  you  know  not 

The  argument. 
Helen.  I  don't  ?     I  know  it  better 

Than  ever  Ovid  did !     "  The  face — the  form — 

•'  The  heart — the  mind  we  fancy,  cousin  ;  that's 

•'  The  argument !     Why,  cousin,  you  know  nothing.** 

Suppose  a  lady  were  in  love  with  thee, 

Could'st  thou,  by  Ovid,  cousin,  find  it  out? 

Could'st  find  it  out,  was't  thou  in  love  thyself  7 

Could  Ovid,  cousin,  teach  thee  to  make  love  1 

I  could,  that  never  read  him.     You  begin 

With  melancholy,  then  to  sadness,  then 

To  sickness  ;  then  to  dying — but  not  die ! 

She  would  not  let  thee,  were  she  of  my  mind  ; 

She'd  take  compassion  on  thee.    Then  for  hope ; 

From  hope  to  confidence  ;  from  confidence 

To  boldness — then  you'd  speak  ;  at  first  entreat ; 

Then  urge ;  then  flout ;  then  argue ;  then  enforce ; 

Make  prisoner  of  her  hand  :  besiege  her  waist ; 

Threaten  her  lips  with  storming  ;  keep  thy  word 

And  carry  her  !     My  sampler  'gainst  thy  Ovid  !  {crosses,  l.) 

Why,  cousin,  are  you  frightened,  that  you  stand 

As  you  were  stricken  dumb  1     The  case  is  clear, 

You  are  no  soldier.     You'll  ne'er  win  a  battle. 

You  care  too  much  for  blows  ! 
Mod.  You  wrong  me  there. 

At  school  I  was  the  champion  of  my  form, 

And  since  I  went  to  college 

Helen.  That  for  college — {snapping  h»r  fin- 

gers and  crossing  laughing.') 
Mod.   Nay,  hear  me ! 
Helen.  Well  ?     What,  since  you  went  to  college  1 

"  You  know  what  men  are  set  down  for  who  boast 

"  Of  their  own  bravery.     Go  on,  brave  cousin  ! 

"  What  since  you  went  to  college  7  "     Was  there  not 

One  Quentin  Halworth  there  ?    You  know  there  was, 

And  that  he  was  your  master  ! 
Mod.  He  my  master  ! 

Thrice  was  he  worsted  by  me. 
Helen.  Still  was  he 

Your  master. 
Mod.  He  allowed  I  had  the  best ! 

Allowed  it,  mark  me  !     Nor  to  me  alone, 

But  to  twenty  I  could  name. 
Helen.  And  mastered  you 

At  last !     Confess  it,  cousin,  'tis  the  truth. 

A  proctor's  daughter  you  did  both  afiect — 

Look  at  me  and  deny  it !     Of  the  twain 

She  more  affected  you  j — I've  caught :you  now, 


ACT  IT.]  THE   HimCHBACK.  47 

'•'  Bold  cousin  !    Mark  you  !     Opportunity  " — 

An  opportunity  she  gave  you,  sir — 

Deny  it  if  you  can  ! — but  though  to  others, 

When  you  discoursed  of  her,  you  were  a  flame, 

To  her  you  were  a  wick  that  would  not  light, 

Though  held  in  the  very  fire  !     And  so  he  won  her— 

Won  her  because  he  wooed  her  like  a  man, 

For  all  your  cuffings,  cuffing  you  again 

With  most  usurious  interest.     Now,  sir, 

Protest  that  you  are  valiant ! 
Mod.  Cousin  Helen ! 

HelexV .  Well,  sir  1 

Mod.  The  tale  is  all  a  forgery  ! 

Helen.  A  forgery ! 
Mod.  From  first  to  last ;  ne'er  spoke  I  • 

To  a  proctor's  daughter  while  I  was  at  college. 
Helf.n.  It  was  a  scrivener's  then — or  somebody's. 

But  what  concerns  it  whose  ?     Enough,  you  loved  her, 

And,  shame  upon  you,  let  another  take  her ! 
Mod.   Cousin,  I  tell  you,  if  you'll  only  hear  me, 

I  loved  no  woman  while  I  was  at  college — 

Save  one,  and  her  I  fancied  ere  I  went  there. 
Helen.  Indeed  !  {aside)  Now  I'll  retreat,  if  he's  advancing. 

Comes  he  not  on  1     Oh,  what  a  stock's  the  man  ! 

{aloud)  Well,  cousin? 
Mod.  Well  ?    What  more  would'st  have  me  say  1 

I  think  I've  said  enough. 
Helen.  And  so  think  I. 

I  did  but  jest  with  you.     You  are  not  angry  1 

Shake  hands !  {shaking  timidly)  Why,  cousin,  do  you  squeeze  me 
sol 
Mod.    {letting  Jier  go).  I  swear  I  squeezed  you  not ! 
Helen.  You  did  not  1 

Mod.  No, 

I'll  die  if  I  did  ! 
Helen.  Why,  then  you  did  not,  cousin  ; 

So  let's  shake  hands  again,  {as  before)  Oh,  go,  and  now 

Read  Ovid !     Cousin,  will  you  tell  me  one  thing  : 

Wore  lovers  ruffs  in  Master  Ovid's  time  1 

Behoved  him  teach  them,  then,  to  put  them  on  ; — 

And  that  you  have  to  learn.     Hold  up  your  head ! 

Why,  cousin,  how  you  blush.     Plague  on  the  ruff"! 

\  cannot  give't  a  set.     You're  blushing  still ! 

*'  Why  do  you  blush,  dear  cousin  ?     So,  'twill  beat  me' 

"  I'll  give  it  up. 
•'  Mod.  Nay,  prithee,  don't — try  on  ! 

"  Helen.  And  if  I  do,  I  fear  you'll  think  me  bold. 
*'MoD    For  what? 

"  H^len.  To  trust  my  face  so  near  to  thine. 

"  Mod.  I  know  not  what  you  mean. 
"  Helen.  I'm  glad  you  don't  I" 

Cousin,  I  own  right  well  behaved  you  are. 

Most  marvellously  well  behaved  !     They've  bred 

You  well  at  college.     With  another  man 

My  lips  would  be  in  danger !     Hang  the  ruff ! 
Mod.    Nay,  give  it  up,  nor  plague  thyself,  dear  cousin. 


48  THK    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  IV, 

Helen.  Dear  fool !  {throwing  down  the  ruff  pettishly')  I  swear  the  ruff 
is  good  for  just 
As  little  as  its  master !     There  ! — 'tis  spoiled — 
You'll  have  to  get  another.     Hie  for  it, 
And  wear  it  in  the  fashion  of  a  wisp, 
Ere  I  adjust  it  for  thee  !     Farewell,  cousin  ! 
You've  need  to  study  Ovid's  Art  of  Love.  [Exit,  r.  1  e. 

Mod.    Went  she  in  anger?     I  will  follow  her.  {advances,  then  pauses} 
No,  I  will  not !     Heigho  !     I  love  my  cousin ! 
Oh,  would  that  she  loved  me !     Why  did  she  taunt  me 
With  backwardness  in  love  ?     What  could  she  mean  1 
Sees  she  I  love  her,  and  so  laughs  at  me, 
Because  I  lack  the  front  to  woo  her  7  {she  comes  back  and  pauses) 
Nay, 
•  I'll  woo  her  then  !     Her  lips  shall  be  in  danger 

When  next  she  trusts  them  near  me  !     Looked  she  at  me 

To-day  as  never  did  she  look  before  ! 

*'  A  bold  heart,  Master  Modus  !     'Tis  a  saying, 

"  A  faint  one  never  won  fair  lady  yet. 

"  I'll  woo  my  cousin,  come  what  will  on't.    Yes !"  {begins  to 

read,  pauses,  and  thrusts  book  into  his  bosom) 
Hang  Ovid's  Art  of  Love !     I'll  woo  my  cousin  ! 

[Uxit,  L.  1  E.     Helen,  laughing  merrily,  exits,  r.  1  e. 

SCENE  II. — The  Banqueting  Room  in  the  Eael  of  Rochdale's  mansion.* 

Enter  Master  Walter  and  Julia,  l.  u.  e.    He  walks  across  to  a  chair^ 
brings  it  forward,  and  sits,  e.  c.  ;  she  stands,  l. 

Walt.  This  is  the  banqueting  room.    Thou  see'st  as  far 

It  leaves  the  last  behind  as  that  excels 

The  former  ones.     All  is  proportion  here 

And  harmony  !     Observe  !     The  massy  pillars 

May  well  look  proud  to  bear  the  lofty  dome. 

"  You  mark  those  full-length  portraits  1     They're  the  heads, 

"  The  stately  heads  of  his  ancestral  line. 

"  Here  o'er  the  feast  they  aptly  still  preside ! 

"  Mark  those  medallions !     Stand  they  forth  or  not 

"  In  bold  and  fair  relief  ?"     Is  not  this  brave  ? 
Julia  {abstractedly).  It  is. 
Walt.  It  should  be  so.     To  cheer  the  blood 

That  flows  in  noble  veins  is  made  the  feast 

That  gladdens  here  !     "  You  see  this  drapery  1 

"  'Tis  richest  velvet!     Fringe  and  tassels  gold  ! 

"  Is  not  this  costly? 
"  Julia.  Yes. 

"  Walt.  And  chaste,  the  while  1 

"  Both  chaste  and  costly  1 
''Julia.  Yes." 

Walt,  {gets  up  and  crosses  to  l.,  points  off  l.  for  mirror).  Come  hither ! 
There's  a  mirror  for  you.     See! 

One  sheet  from  floor  to  ceiling  !     Look  into  it. 

Salute  its  mistress  !     Dost  not  know  her  1 
Julia  {sighing  deeply).  Yes. 

''  Walt.  And  sighest  thou  to  know  her  1    Wait  until 

*  There  is  no  change  in  the  Union  Square  version. 


ACT  IV.]  TIIK    HUNCUBVCK.  49 

"  To-moriow,  wlien  the  banquet  sliall  be  spread 

'•  In  the  fair  hall ;  the  guests   ah-eady  bid, 

"  Around  it ;  here  her  lord,  and  there  herself, 

*'  Presiding  o'er  the  cheer  that  hails  him  bridegroom 

"  And  her  the  happy  bride  '.     Dost  .hear  me  ] 

*'  Julia.  (sigJiing  still  more  deeply).  Yes." 

Walt.  *'  These  are  the  day-rooms  only  we  have  seen, 
"  For  public  and  domestic  uses  kept." 

I'll  show  you  now  the  lodging  rooms,  {goes,  then  turns  mid  ob- 
serves .Julia  stan  ling  perfectly  abstracted)  You're  tired. 
Let  it  be  till  after  dim  n-  tlien.     Yet  one 
I'd  like  thee  much  to  see — the  bridal  chamber.  (Julia  starts, 

crosses  her  hands  upon  her  breast,  and  looks  ttptvards) 
I  see  you're  tired ;  yet  is  it  worth  the  viewing, 
If  only  for  the  tapestry,  which  shows 
The  needle  like  the  pencil  glow  with  life,  {she  sits  on  the  chair 

Master  Walter  has  risen  from,  r.  c.     He  l.) 
The  story's  of  a  page  Avho  loved  the  dame 
He  served — a  princess  !     Love's  a  heedless  thing  ! 
That  never  takes  account  of  obstacles ; 
Makes  plains  of  mountains,  rivulets  of  seas, 
That  part  it  from  its  wish.     So  proved  the  page, 
Who  from  a  state  so  lowly  looked  so  high — 
But  love's  a  greater  lackwit  still  than  this. 
Say  it  aspires — that's  gain  !     Love  stoops — that's  loss  ! 
You  know  what  comes.     The  ])rincess  loved  the  page. 
Shall  I  go  on,  or  here  leave  off  1 

Julia.  Go  on. 

Walt.  Each  side  of  the  chamber  shows  a  diflferent  stage 
Of  this  fond  youth  and  fonder  lady's  love.* 
"  Fir.st — no,  it  is  not  that. 

"  Julia.  Oh,  recollect ! 

*'  Walt.  And  yet  it  is  ! 
.    "  Julia.  No  doubt  it  is.     What  is't '? 

"  Walt.  He  holds  to  her  a  salver,  with  a  cup  ; 

*'  His  cheek  more  mantling  with  his  passion,  than 
•■'  The  cup  with  the  ruby  wine.     She  heeds  him  not, 
"For  too  great  heed  of  him — but  seems  to.hold 
"  Debate  betwixt  her  passion  and  her  pride, 
"  That's  like  to  lose  the  day.     You  read  it  in 
"  Her  vacant  eye,  knit  brow,  and  parted  lips, 
"  Which  speak  a  heart  too  busy  all  within 
"  To  note  what's  done  without.     Like  you  the  tale "? 

"  Julia.  I  list  to  every  word. 

"  Walt.  The  next  side  paints 

"  The  page  upon  his  knee.     He  has  told  his  tale ; 

*  In  some  representations  the  passages  following  this  are  frequently  omitted ; 
where  such  is  the  case,  the  abbreviated  dialogue  runs  thus:— 

Walt.  The  first  side  paints  their  passion  in  the  dawn- 
In  the  next  side  'tis  shining  open  day — 
In  the  third  tliere's  clouding— I  but  touch  on  these 
To  make  a  long  tale  brief,  and  bring  thee  to 
The  last  side. 

Juua.  What  shows  that  ? 

Walt.  The  fate  of  love 

That  will  not  be  advised.    The  scene's  a  dungeon  ; 
Its  tenant  is  the  page— he  lies  in  fetters. 

Julia.  Hard  I 

liaiu  lb  the  steel  the  bauds  that  put  them  on  I 


50  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  IV. 

"  And  found  that,  when  he  lost  his  heart,  he  played 

"  No  losing  game ;  but  won  a  richer  one ! 

"  There  may  you  read  in  him,  how  love  would  seem 

"  Most  humble  when  most  bold — you  question  which 

"  Appears  to  kiss  her  hand — his  breath  or  lips  ! 

"  In  her  you  read  ht)w  wholly  lost  is  she 

"  Who  trusts  her  heart  to  love.     Shall  I  give  o'er  1 
"  Julia.  Nay,  tell  it  to  the  end.     Is't  melancholy  1 
*'  Walt.  To  answer  that  would  mar  the  story. 
"  Julia.  Right ! 

'•  Walt.  The  third  side  now  we  come  to. 
'*  Julia.  What  shows  that  1 

"  Walt.  The  page  and  princess  still.     But  stands  her  sire 

"  Between  them.     Stern  he  grasps  his  daughter's  arm, 

"  Whose  eyes  like  fountains  play  ;  while  through  her  tears 

**  Her  passion  shines,  as,  through  the  fountain  drops, 

"  The  sun  !     His  minions  crowd  around  the  page  ! 

"They  drag  him  to  a  dungeon. 
"  Julia.  Hapless  youth ! 

"  Walt.  Hapless,  indeed,  that's  twice  a  captive !  heart 

"  And  body  both  in  bonds.     But  that's  the  chain, 

"  Which  balance  cannot  weigh,  rule  measure,  touch 

"  Define  the  texture  of,  or  eye  detect, 

**  That's  forged  by  the  subtle  craft  of  love  ! 

"  No  need  to  tell  you  that  he  wears  it.     Such 

"  The  cunning  of  the  hand  that  plied  the  loom, 

"  You've  but  to  mark  the  straining  of  his  eye 

"  To  feel  the  coil  yourself! 
"  Julia.  I  feel't  without ! 

"  You've  finished  with  the  third  side  ;  now  the  fourth  I 

"  Walt.  It  brings  us  to  a  dungeon,  then 

"  Julia.  The  page, 

"  The  thrall  of  love,  more  than  the  dungeon's  thrall, 

"Is  there 7 
"Walt.  He  is.     He  lies  in  fetters  ! 

"  Julia.  Hard — 

"  Hard  as  the  steel,  the  hands  that  put  them  on !" 
Walt.  Some  one  unrivets  them. 
Julia.  The  princess  1     'Tis  ! 

Walt.  It  is  another  page. 
Julia.  It  is  herself ! 

Walt.  Her  skin  is  fair,  and  his  is  berry  brown. 

His  locks  are  raven  black,  and  hers  are  gold. 
Julia.  Love's  cunning  at  disguises  !  spite  of  locks. 

Skin,  vesture — it  is  she,  and  only  she  ! 

What  will  not  constant  woman  do  for  love, 

That's  loved  with  constancy  !     Set  her  the  task. 

Virtue  approvinir,  that  will  baffle  her  ! 

O'ertax  her  stooping,  patience,  courage,  wit ! 

My  life  upon  it,  'tis  the  princess's  self, 

Transformed  into  a  page  ! 
Walt.  The  dungeon  door 

Stands  open,  and  you  see  beyond 

Julia.  Her  father! 

Walt.  No  ;  a  steed  ! 

Julia  [starting  up).      Oh,  welcome  steed, 

My  heart  bounds  at  the  thought  of  Miet !    IEImu  oem'st 


ACT  IV.]  THE   HUNCflBACK.  61 

To  bear  the  page  from  bonds  to  liberty. 

What  else  1 
Walt,  {rising).         The  story's  told. 
Julia.  Too  briefly  told  ! 

Oh,  happy  princess,  that  had  wealth  and  state 

To  lay  them  down  for  love  !     "  Whose  constant  love 

"  Appearances  approved,  not  falsified ! 

"  A  winner  in  thy  loss  as  well  as  gain." 
"Walt.  Weighs  love  so  much  1 
Julia.  What  would  you  weigh  'gainst  love 

That's  true  ?    Tell  me  with  what  you'd  turn  the  scale  1 

Yea,  make  the  index  waver  1     Wealth  1     A  feather  ! 

Rank  1     Tinsel  against  bullion  in  the  balance ! 

The  love  of  kindred  1     That  to  set  'gainst  love  ! 

Friendship  comes  nearest  to't ;  but  put  it  in, 

And  friendship  kicks  the  beam — weigh  nothing  'gainst  it ! 

Weigh  love  against  the  world  ! 

"  Yet  are  they  happy  that  have  naught  to  say  to  it. 
"  Walt.  And  such  a  one  art  thou.     Who  wisely  wed, 

"  Wed  happily.     The  love  thou  speak'st  of, 

'•  A  flower  is  only,  that  its  season  has, 

"  Which  they  must  look  to  see  the  withering  of, 

"  Who  pleasure  in  its  budding  and  its  bloom ! 

*'  But  wisdom  is  the  constant  evergreen 

"  Which  lives  the  whole  year  through.    Be  that  your  flower !" 

Enter  Servant,  l.  1  e. 
Wein 

Serv.  My  lord's  secretary  is  without. 

He  brings  a  letter  for  her  ladyship, 
And  craves  admittance  to  her. 

Walt.  Show  him  in. 

Julia.  No  ! 

Walt.  Thou  must  see  him.     To  show  slight  to  him 

Were  slighting  him  that  sent  him.     Show  him  in  ! 

[Exit  Servant,  l.  1  e. 
Some  errand  proper  for  thy  private  ear. 
Besides  the  letter.     What's  the  matter  ?    Why 
This  paleness  and  this  trembling  ?  (c.)  Mark  me,  Julia! 
If,  from  these  nuptials  which  thyself  invited — 
Which,  at  thy  seeking  came — thou  would'st  be  freed, 
Thou  hast  gone  too  far  !     Receding  were  disgrace, 
Sooner  than  see  thee  suffer  which,  the  hearts 
That  love  thee  most  would  wish  thee  dead  !     Reflect  I 
Take  thought!     Collect  thyself !     With  dignity 

J  Receive  thy  bridegroom's  messenger !  for  sure 

As  dawns  to-morrow's  sun,  to-morrow  night 
Sees  thee  a  wedded  bride  !  [Exii^  c.  D. 

Julia  {alone).  A  wedded  bride  ! 

Is  it  a  dream  ]     "  Is  it  a  phantasm  1     'Tis 
"  Too  horrible  for  reality!  for  aught  else 
*'  Too  palpable  !"     Oh,  would  it  were  a  dream  ! 
How  would  I  bless  the  sun  that  waked  me  from  it  I 
"  I  perish  !     Like  some  desperate  mariner 
"  Impatient  of  a  strange  and  hostile  land, 
•'  Who  rashly  hoists  his  sail,  and  puts  to  sea, 
"  And  being  fast  on  reefs  and  quicksands  borne. 


52  THE   nuiWRBACK.  [act  IV. 

''Essays  in  vain  once  more  to  make  the  land, 

"  Whence  wind  and  current  drive  him." — I  am  wrecked  ! 

By  mine  own  act !     What !  no  escape  1  no  hope  1 

None  I     I  must  e'en  abide  these  hated  nuptials  ! 

Hated  !     Ay  !  own  it,  and  then  curse  thyself! 

"  That  mad'st  the  bane  thou  loathest  " — for  the  love 

Thou  bear'st  to  one  who  never  can  be  thine  ! 

Yes — love  !     Deceive  thyself  no  longer.    False 

To  say  'tis  pity  for  his  fall ! — "  respect, 

"  Engendered  by  a  hollow  world's  disdain, 

"  Which  hoots  whom  fickle  fortune  cheers  no  more  ! 

'*  'Tis  none  of  these  ;  "  'tis  love — and  if  not  lore, 

Why,  then,  idolatry  !     Ay,  that's  the  name 

To  speak  the  broadest,  deepest,  strongest  passion, 

That  ever  woman's  heart  was  borne  away  by  ! 

He  comes  !     Thou'dst  play  the  lady — play  it  now  ! 

Unter  Servant,  l.  1  e.,  condmting  Clifford,  plainly  attired,  as  the  Earl 
OF  Rochdale's  secretary, 

Serv..  His  lordship's  secretary.  [Exit,  c.  d. 

Julia  {aside).  Speaks  he  not  1 

Or  does  he  wait  for  orders  to  unfold 

His  business  ?     Stopped  his  business  till  I  spoke, 

I'd  hold  my  peace  forever !  (Clifford  kneels,  presenting  a  letter) 
Does  he  kneel  ? 

A  lady  am  I  to  my  heart's  content ! 

Could  he  unmake  me  that  which  claims  his  knee, 

I'd  kneel  to  him — I  would  !     I  would !  {aloud)  Your  will  1 
Clif.  {lowly  and  humbly).  This  letter  from  my  lord. 
Julia  (aside).  Oh,  fate  !  {aloud)  Who  speaks  1 

Clif.  The  secretary  of  my  lord,  {rises.) 
Julia  (aside).  I  breathe  ! 

I  could  have  sworn  'twas  he !  [makes  an  effort  to  look  at  him, 
but  is  unable) 

So  like  the  voice — 

I  dare  not  look,  lest  there  the  form  should  stand  ! 

How  came  he  by  that  voice  ?     'Tis  Clifford's  voice, 

If  ever  Clifford  spoke  !     "  My  fears  come  back  I" — 

Clifford  the  secretary  of  my  lord  ? 

Fortune  hath  freaks  ;  but  none  so  mad  as  that ! 

It  cannot  be — it  should  not  be — a  look. 

And  all  were  set  at  rest,  {tries  again,  but  cannot)  So  strong  my 
fears. 

Dread  to  confirm  them  takes  away  the  power 

To  try  and  end  them  !     Come  the  worst,  I'll  look !  {she  tries 
again,  and  is  again  unequal  to  the  task) 

I'd  sink  before  him,  if  I  met  his  eye  ! 
Clif.  {meekly)    Wilt  please  your  ladyship  to  take  the  letter  ? 
Julia  {aside).  There  Clifford  speaks  again  !     Not  Clifford's  breath 

Could  more  make  Clifford's  voice  !     Not  Clifford's  tongue 

And  lips  more  frame  it  into  Clifford's  speech ! 

A  question,  and  'tis  over,   {aloud)  Know  I  you  7 
Clip.    Reverse  of  fortune,  lady,  changes  friends ; 

It  turns  them  into  strangers      What  I  am, 

I  have  not  always  been  1 
Julia.  Could  I  not  name  you  ? 


ACT  IV.]  THE    HUNCHBA-CK.  53 

Clif.  If  your  disdain  for  one,  perhaps  too  bold, 

When  hollow  fortune  called  him  favorite — 

"  Now  by  her  fickleness  perforce  reduced 

"  To  take  an  humble  tone,"  would  suffer  you 
Julia.  I  might  1 
Clif.  You  might ! 

Julia  (turns,  staHs — with  grief).  Oh,  Cliflford  !     Is  it  you'? 
Clif.    {coldly).  Your  answer  to  my  lord  !  {offering  the  letter.) 
Julia  {with  emphasis).  Your  lord ! 

Clif.  [rising).  Wilt  write  it 

Or  will  it  please  you  send  a  verbal  one  ? 

I'll  bear  it  faithfully. 
Julia  {asto7iished).  Fo^V/ bear  it  ? 

Clif.  Madam, 

Your  pardon,  but  my  haste  is  somewhat  urgent. 

My  Lord's  impatient,  and  to  use  dispatch 

Were  his  repeated  orders. 
Julia.  Orders  1     Well,  (c,  taking  letter) 

I'll  read  the  letter,  sir.     'Tis  right  you  mind 

His  Lordship's  orders.     They  are  paramount ! 

Nothing  should  supersede  them — stand  beside  them ! 

They  merit  all  your  care,  and  have  it !     Fit, 

Most  fit  they  should  !     Give  me  the  letter,  sir. 
Clip.    You  have  it,  madam. 
Julia.  So  !  {aside)  How  poor  a  thing 

I  look  !  so  lost,  while  he  is  all  himself! 

Have  I  no  pride  1  {she  rings,  the  Servant  enters,  r.  1  e.) 

{to  Servant)  Paper,  and  pen  and  ink!  [£xit  Servant,  r.  1  e. 

(aside)  If  he  can  freeze,  'tis  time  that  I  grow  cold  ! 

I'll  read   the  letter  !  {opens  it,  and  holds  it  as  about  to  read  it) 
Mind  his  orders  !     So  ! 

Quickly  he  fits  his  habits  to  his  fortunes ! 

He  serves  ray  Lord  with  all  his  will !     His  heart's 

In  his  vocation.     So  !     Is  this  the  letter  1 

'Tis  upside  down— and  here  I'm  poring  on't! 

Most  fit  I  let  him  see  me  play  the  fool ! 

Shame  !     Let  me  be  myself ! 

Servant  re-enters  with  material*  for  writing,  and  exits. 

"A  table,  sir, 

"  And  chair  "  {she  sits  awhile,  gazing  vacantly  on  tJie  letter — then 

looks  at  Clifford)  How  plainly  shows  his  humble  suit ! 
It  fits  not  him  that  wears  it.     I  have  wronged  him  ! 
He  can't  be  happy — does  not  look  it — is  not ! 
That  eye  which  reads  the  ground  is  argument 
Enough  !     He  loves  me !     There  I  let  him  stand, 
And  I  am  sitting  !  {rises,  and  points  to  a  chair) 
{aloud)  Pray  you,  take    a  chair,  {he  bows,  declining  the  honor. 

She  looks  at  him  awhile,  then  speaks  with  a  sudden  burst  of 

kindness  she  cannot  restrain) 
Clifford,  why  don't  you  speak  to  me  ?  {weeps.) 
CtinP.  I  trust 

You're  happy. 
Julia.  Happy  !     Very,  very  happy  I 

You  see  I  weep  I  am  so  happy  !     Tears 
Are  signs,  you  know,  of  naught  buL  happiness. 


54  THE    HltNCHBACK.  [aCT  IV. 

When  first  I  saw  you  little  did  I  look 

To  be  so  happy  !     Cliflford  ! 
Clip.  Madam'? 

Julia.  Madam . 

I  call  thee  Cliflford,  and  thou  call'st  me  madam ! 
Clip.    Such  the  address  my  duty  stints  me  to. 

Thou  art  the  wife  elect  of  a  proud  earl — 

Whose  humble  secretary  sole  am  I. 
Julia.  Most  right !     I  had  forgot .'     I  thank  you,  sir, 

For  so  reminding  me ;  and  give  you  joy 

That  what  I  see  had  been  a  burthen  to  you 

Is  fairly  oflf  your  hands. 
Clip.  A  burthen  to  me  1 

Mean  you  yourself  1     Are  you  that  burthen,  Julia  1 

Say  that  the  sun's  a  burthen  to  the  earth  ! 

Say  that  the  blood's  a  burthen  to  the  heart ! 

Say  health's  a  burthen,  peace,  contentment,  joy, 

Fame,  riches,  honors  ;  every  thing  that  man 

Desires,  and  gives  the  name  of  blessing  to — 

E'en  such  a  burthen  Julia  were  to  me 

Had  fortune  let  me  wear  her. 
Julia  {aside).  On  the  brink 

Of  what  a  precipice  I'm  standing  !     Back  ! 

Back !  while  the  faculty  remains  to  do't ! 

A  minute  longer,  not  the  whirlpool's  self 

More  sure  to  suck  thee  down !  One  effort !  (sits  l.  of  table) 
There !  {recovers  her  self-possession,  takes  up  the  letter  ana 
reads) 

{aside)  To  wed  to-morrow  night !     Wed  whom  1    A  man 

Whom  I  can  never  love !     I  should  before 

Have  thought  of  that.     To-morrow  night !     This  hour 

To-morrow !     How  I  tremble  !     "  Happy  bands 

"  To  which  my  heart  such  freezing  welcome  gives, 

"As  sends  an  ague  through  me  !"     At  what  means 

Will  not  the  desperate  snatch !     What's  honor's  price  ? 

Nor  friends,  nor  lovers — no,  nor  life  itself! 

{aloud)  Clifford!  This  moment  leave  me!  (Clifford  retires 
up  the  stage — aside)  Is  he  gone  1 

Oh,  docile  lover  !     Do  his  mistress'  wish 

That  went  against  his  own  !     Do  it  so  soon ! 

Ere  well  'twas  uttered  !     No  good-bye  to  her  ! 

No  word  !  no  look  !    'Twas  best  that  so  he  went . 

Alas  !  the  strait  of  her  who  owns  that  best, 

Which  last  she'd  wish  were  done  !     What's  left  me  now  ? 

To  weep  !     To  weep  ! 

ttcans  her  head  upon  her  arm,  which  rests  upon  the  table— her  other  , arm 
hanging  listless  at  her  side.  Clifford  comes  down  the  stage,  looks  a 
moment  at  her,  approaches  her,  and  kneeling,  takes  her  hand. 

Clif.  {with  sliced  emotion).  My  Julia  ! 

Julia.  Here  again  ? 

Up  1  up  !    By  all  thy  hopes  of  heaven,  go  hence  I 

To  stay's  perdition  to  me  !     Look  you,  Clifford  ! 

Were  there  a  grave  where  thou  art  kneeling  now 

I'd  walk  into't,  and  be  inearthed  alive, 

Ere  taint  should  touch  my  name.    Should  some  one  come 


ACT  IV.]  THE   HUNCHBACK.  55 

And  see  thee  kneeling  thus  !     Let  go  my  hand  ! 

Remember,  Clifford,  I'm  a  promised  bride — 

And  take  thy  arm  away  !     Tt  has  no  right 

To  clasp  my  waist !     Judge  you  so  poorly  of  me, 

As  think  I'll  suffer  this  ?   My  honor,  sir  1   {^he  breaks  from  him, 

quitting  h&r  seat — he  rises) 
I'm  glad  you've  forced  me  to  respect  myself — 
You'll  find  that  I  can  do  so  ! 

Clip.  (c).  1  was  bold — 

Forgetful  of  your  station  and  my  own. 
There  was  a  time  I  held  your  hand  unchid  ! 
There  was  a  time  I  might  have  clasped  your  waist — 
I  had  forgot  that  time  was  past  and  gone  ! 
I  pray  you,  pardon  me  ! 

Julia  {softened).  I  do  so,  CUflford  ! 

Clif,    1  shall  no  more  offend. 

Julia.  Make  sure  of  that. 

No  longer  is  it  fit  thou  keep'st  thy  post 
In's  Lordship's  household.     Give  it  up.     A  day — 
An  hour  remain  not  in  it. 

Clip.  Wherefore  1 

Julia.  Live 

In  the  same  house  with  me,  and  I  another's  7 

Put  miles,  put  leagues  between  us  !     The  same  laud 

Should  not  contain  us.     "  Oceans  should  divide  us — 

"  With  barriers  of  constant  tempests — such 

"  As  mariners  durst  not  tempt !"     Oh,  Clifford !  Cliflford  ! 

Rash  was  the  act  so  light  that  gave  me  up, 

That  stung  a  woman's  pride,  and  drove  her  mad — 

Till,  in  her  frenzy,  she  destroyed  her  peace  ! 

Oh,  it  was  rashly  done  !     Had  you  reproved — 

Expostulated — had  you  reasoned  with  me — 

Tried  to  find  out  what  was  indeed  my  heart — 

I  would  have  shown  it — you'd  have  seen  it.     All 

Had  been  as  naught  can  ever  be  again  ! 

Clip.   Lov'st  thou  me,  Julia  7 

Julia.  Dost  thou  ask  me,  Clifford  7 

Clip.    These  nuptials  may  be  shunned 

Julia.  With  honor  1 

Clip.  Yes ! 

Julia.  Then  take  me  !     Hold  ! — hear  me,  and  take  me  then  ! 
Let  not  thy  passion  be  my  counsellor  ! 
Deal  with  me,  Clifford,  as  my  brother.     Be 
The  jealous  guardian  of  my  spotless  name  ! 
Scan  thou  my  cause  as  'twere  thy  sister's  !     Let 
Thy  scrutiny  o'erlook  no  point  of  it — 
And  turn  it  o'er,  not  once,  but  many  a  time ; — 
That  flaw,  speck,  yea,  the  shade  of  one — a  soil 
So  slight  not  one  out  of  a  thousand  eyes 
Could  find  it  out — may  not  escape  thee  ;  then 
Say  if  these  nuptials  can  be  shunned  with  honor ! 

Clip.   Thev  can. 

Julia.  Then  take  me,  Clifford  !  {they  embrace.) 

Enter  Master  Walter,  c.  d.  ;  pattses,  then  comes  down. 
Walt.  Ila  !     What's  this  ? 


66  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  IV. 

Ha !  treason  !    What !  ray  baronet  that  was, 

My  secretary  now !     Your  servant,  sir  ! 

Is't  thus  you  do  the  pleasure  of  your  lord, — 

"  That  for  your  service  feeds  you,  clothes  you,  pays  you ! 

"  Or  tak'st  thou  but  the  name  of  his  dependent  1" 

What's  here  1 — a  letter  !  {snatches  letter  from  table)  'Fifty  crowns 

to  one 
A  forgery  !    I'm  wrong.     It  is  his  hand. 
This  proves  thee  double  traitor  ! 
Clif.  {warmly,  then  cotitr oiling  himself ).  Traitor! 
Julia.  Nay, 

Control  thy  wrath,  good  Master  Walter.    Do — 
And  I'll  persuade  him  to  go  hence.  (  Master  Walter  retires 
up  the  stage,  r.,  with  lettir,  and  remains  there  until  Clifford 
is  off.     Aside  to  Clifford)  I  see 
For  me  thou  bearest  this,  and  thank  thee,  Cliflford ! 
As  thou  hast  truly  shown  thy  heart  to  me, 
So  truly  I  to  thee  have  opened  mine  ! 
Time  flies  !     To-morrow,  if  thy  love  can  find 
A  way,  such  as  thou  said'st,  for  my  enlargement — 
By  any  means  thou  can'st  apprize  me  of  it — 
And  soon  as  shown  I'll  take  it. 
Walt,  (r.)  Is  he  gone  ? 

Julia  {aloud).  He  is — this  moment!  {aside  to  Clifford)  If  thou  cov- 
et'st  me. 
Win  me  and  wear  me  !    May  I  trust  thee  !  {sinks  on  Clifford's 

breast)  Oh  1 
If  that's  thy  soul  that's  looking  through  thine  eyes, 
Thou  lov'st  me,  and  I  may — I  sicken  lest 
I  never  see  thee  more ! 
Clif.  As  life  is  mine, 

The  ring  that  goes  thy  wedding  finger  on, 
No  hand  save  mine  shall  place  there  ! 
Walt.  Lingers  he  1 

Julia.  For  my  sake,  now  away !     "  And  yet  a  word. 
"  By  all  thy  hopes  most  dear,  be  true  to  me  ! 
"  Go,  now !     Yet  stay  !"     Oh,  CHffbrd,  while  you're  herja 
I'm  like  a  bark  distressed  and  compassless. 
That  by  a  beacon  steers — when  you're  away, 
That  bark  alone,  and  tossing  miles  at  sea  1 
Now  go  !     Farewell !     My  compass — beacon — land ! 
When  shall  mine  eyes  be  blessed  with  thee  again  ! 
Clif.  Farewell ! 

[  With  a  struggle  he  tears  himself  away,  and  exits,  l.  1  e. 
Julia.  Art  gone  1    All's  care  !     All's  chauce — all's  darkness  1  {is  be- 
ing led  off  by  Master  Walter,  c,  as  the  curtain  falls.) 

CURTAIN.''' 


*  This  ends  the  Fifth  Act  in  the  Union  Square  version— there  is  no  change  of 
Scene  for  the  whole  of  the  next  Act. 


ACT  v.]  THE  HUNCnBACK.  57 

ACT  v.* 
SCENE  I. — An  apartment  in  the  Earl  of  Rochdale's. 
Unter  Helen  and  Fathom,  c.  d.,  and  advancing. 

Fath.  The  long  and  short  of  it  is  this — if  she  marries  this  lord  she'll 
break  her  heart !    I  wish  you  could  see  her,  madam — poor  lady  ! 

Helen.  How  looks  she,  prithee  1 

Fath.  Marry,  for  all  the  world  like  a  dripping  wet  cambric  handker- 
chief !  She  has  no  color  nor  strength  in  her,  and  does  nothing  but 
weep — poor  lady  ! 

Helen.  Tell  me  again,  what  said  she  to  thee  1 

Fath.  She  offered  me  all  she  was  mistress  of  to  take  the  letter  to 
Master  Clifford.  She  drew  her  purse  from  her  pocket— her  ring 
from  her  finger — her  ear-rings  from  her  ears  ;  but  I  was  forbidden,  and 
refused.     And  now  I'm  sorry  for  it — poor  lady  ! 

Helen.  Thou  should'st  be  sorry.     Thou  hast  a  hard  heart,  Fathom. 

Fath.  I,  madam  !  My  heart  is  as  soft  as  a  woman's.  You  should 
have  seen  me  when  I  came  out  of  her  chamber — poor  lady  ! 

Helen.  Did  you  cry  1 

Fath.  No  ;  but  I  was  near  it  as  possible.  I  a  hard  heart!  I  would 
do  anything  to  serve  her — poor  sweet  lady  ! 

Helen.  Will  you  take  her  letter,  asks  she  you  again  % 

Fath.  No — I  am  forbid. 

Helen.  Will  you  help  Master  Clifford  to  an  interview  with  herl 

Fath.  No — Master  Walter  would  find  it  out. 

Helen.  Will  you  contrive  to  get  me  into  her  chamber  1 

Fath.  No — you  would  get  me  into  mischief. 

Helen.  Go  to !  You  would  do  nothing  to  serve  her.  You  a  soft 
heart !     You  have  no  heart  at  all !     You  feel  not  for  her. 

Fath.  But  I  tell  you  I  do — and  good  right  I  have  to  feel  for  her.  I 
have  been  in  love  myself. 

Helen.  With  your  dinner  1 

Fath.  I  would  it  had  been !  My  pain  would  have  soon  been  over, 
and  at  little  cost.  A  fortune  I  squandered  upon  her  ! — trinkets — trim- 
mings— treatings — what  swallowed  up  the  revenue  of  a  whole  year ! 
Wasn't  I  in  love?  Six  months  I  courted  her,  and  a  dozen  crowns,  all 
but  one,  did  I  disburse  for  her  in  that  time.  Wasn't  I  in  love  1  An 
hostler,  a  tapster,  and  a  constable  courted  her  at  the  same  time,  and  I 
offered  to  cudgel  the  whole  three  of  them  for  her !     Wasn't  I  in  love  ] 

Helen.  You  are  a  valiant  man.  Fathom. 

Fath.  Am  not  1 1    Walks  not  the  earth  the  man  I  am  afraid  of  ! 

Helen.  Fear  you  not  Master  Walter  1 

Fath.  No. 

Helen.  You  do. 

Fath.  I  don't. 

Helen.  I'll  prove  it  to  you.  You  see  him  breaking  your  young  mis- 
tress' heart,  and  have  not  the  manhood  to  stand  by  her. 

Fath.   What  could  I  do  for  her  1 

Helen.  Let  her  out  of  prison.     It  were  the  act  of  a  man. 

Fath.  That  man  am  I ! 

Helen,  Well  said,  brave  Fathom. 

Fath.  But  my  place  ! 

*  Act  VI.  in  the  Union  Square  version,  with  no  change  from  preceding  Scene. 


58  THE    HrNCHBACK.  [ACT  T. 

Helen.  I'll  provide  thee  with  a  better  one. 

Fath.  'Tis  a  capital  place  !  So  little  to  do,  and  so  much  to  get  for't. 
Six  pounds  in  the  year  ;  two  suits  of  livery ;  shoes  and  stockings,  and 
a  famous  larder.  He'd  be  a  bold  man  that  would  put  such  a  place  in 
jeopardy.     My  place,  madam,  my  place  ! 

Helen.  I  tell  thee  I'll  provide  thee  with  a  better  place.  Thou  shalt 
have  less  to  do  and  more  to  get.  Now,  Fathom,  hast  thou  courage  to 
stand  by  thy  mistress  ] 

Path.  I  have  ! 
.    Helen.  That's  right. 

Fath.  I'll  let  my  lady  out. 

Enter  Master  Walter,  unpercmed,  c, 

Helen.  That's  right.    When,  Fathom  1 
Fath.  To-night. 

Helen.  She  is  to  be  married  to-night. 

Fath.  This  evening  then.     Master  Walter  is  now  in  the  library ;  the 
key  is  on  the  outside,  and  I'll  lock  him  in. 
Helen.  Excellent !     You'll  do  if? 

Fath.  Rely  upon  it.  How  he'll  stare  when  he  finds  himself  a  pris- 
oner, and  my  young  lady  at  liberty ! 

Helen.  Most  excellent !     You'll  be  sure  to  do  it  ? 
Fath.  Depend  upon  me.     When  Fathom  undertakes  a  thing  he  de- 
fies fire  and  water 

Walt,  (coming  forward  between  them,  c).  Fathom! 
Fath.  {trewhlingly).  Sir  1 

Walt.  Assemble  straight  the  servants. 
Fath.  Yes,  sir ! 

Walt.  Mind, 

And  have  them  in  the  hall  when  I  come  down. 
Fath.  Yes,  sir ! 
Walt.  And  see  you  do  not  stir  a  step. 

But  where  I  order  you. 
Fath.  Not  an  inch,  sir. 

Walt.  See  that  you  don't — away  !  [Exit  Fathom,  c.  d. 

So,  my  fair  mistress, 

What's  this  you  have  been  plotting  1    An  escape 

For  Mistress  Julia  1 
Helen.  I  avow  it. 

Walt.  Do  you  1 

Helen.  Yes  ;  and  moreover,  to  your  face  I  tell  you, 

Most  hardly  do  you  use  her. 
Walt.  Verily  I 

Helen.  I  wonder  where's  her  spirit  ?    Had  she  mine 

She  would  not  take't  so  easily.     Do  you  mean 

To  force  this  marriage  on  her  7 
Walt.  With  your  leave. 

Helen.  You  laugh ! 

Walt.  Without  it,  then.    I  don't  laugh  now. 

Helen.  If  I  were  she,  I'd  find  a  way  to  escape. 
Walt.  What  would  you  do  1 

Helen.  I'd  leap  out  of  the  window ! 

Walt.  Your  window  should  be  barred. 
Helen  I'd  cheat  you  still  I 

I'd  hang  myself  ere  I'd  be  forced  to  marry  ! 
Walt.  Well  said  !     You  shall  be  married,  then,  to-night ! 


ACTA'.]  THE   HUNCHBACK.  59 

Helen.  Married  to-night  1 

Walt.  As  sure  as  I  have  said  it. 

Helen.  Two  words  to  that.     Pray,  who's  to  be  my  bridegroom  1 

Walt.   A  daughter's  bridegroom  is  her  father's  choice. 

Helen,  My  father's  daughter  ne'er  shall  wed  such  bridegroom  ! 

Walt.    Indeed! 

Helen.  I'll  pick  a  husband  for  myself. 

Walt.    Indeed ! 

Helen.  Indeed,  sir  ;  and  indeed  again  ! 

Walt.   Go  dress  you  for  the  marriage  ceremony. 

Helen.  But,  Master  Walter,  what  is  it  you  mean  1 

Enter  Modus,  r.  d.  ;  he  stops  short. 

Walt.  Here  comes  your  cousin — he  shall  be  your  bridesman ! 
The  thought's  a  sudden  one — that  will  excuse 
Defect  in  your  appointments.     A  plain  dress — 
So  'tis  of  white — will  do. 

Helen.  Fll  dress  in  black. 

I'll  quit  the  castle. 

Walt.  '  That  you  shall  not  do. 

Its  doors  are  guarded  by  my  lord's  domestics ; 

Its  avenues — its  grounds  ;  what  you  must  do, 

Do  with  a  good  grace.     In  an  hour,  or  less, 

Your  father  will  be  here.     Make  up  your  mind 

To  take  with  thankfulness  the  man  he  gives  you. 

(aside)  Now,  if  they  find  not  out  how  beat  their  hearts, 

i  have  no  skill,  not  I,  in  feeling  pulses.  [Exit,  l.  d. 

'S.^jj^^  follows,  but  stops  shorty  and  looks  across  at  Modus,  at  opposite  wing; 
they  patise,  and  bashfully  look  at  each  other. 

Helen.  Why,  cousin  Modus  !     What !    Will  you  stand  by 
And  see  me  forced  to  marry  i     Cousin  Modus, 
Have  you  not  got  a  tongue  1     Have  you  not  eyes  1 
Do  you  not  see  I'm  very — very  ill,  {moves  towards  him) 
'*  And  not  a  chair  in  all  the  corridor  1 
"  Mod.   I'll  find  one  in  the  study,  {going  towards  c.  d.) 
"  Helen.  Hang  the  study ! 

"  Mod.    My  room's  at  hand.     I'll  fetch  one  thence,  {going,  r.) 
"  Helen.  You  shan't ! 

"  I'll  faint  ere  you  come  back !" 
Mod.    {embarrassed — yet  moving  towards  her).  What  shall  I  do  ? 
Helen.  Why  don't  you  offer  to  support  mel     Well  1 

Give  me  your  arm — be  quick  !  (Modus  offers  his  arm)  Is  that 

the  way 
To  help  a  lady  when  she's  like  to  faint  1 
I'll  drop  unless  you  catch  me  !  {falls  against  him;  he  supports 

her)  That  will  do  ; 
I'm  better  now.  {he  offers  to  leave  her)  Don't  leave  me !     Is  one 

well 
Because  one's  better  1     Hold  my  hand,  {gently  pulls  his  arm 
round  her  waist  so  as  to  bring  his  hand  in  front,  clasping  }ier*s, 
and  she  resting  on  his  bo&om)  Keep  so. 
•'  I'll  soon  recover,  so  you  move  not.  {aside)  Loves  he — 
"  Which  I'll  be  sworn  he  does  he'll  own  it  now." 
ijaloud)  Well,  cousin  Modus  1 


60  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  V. 

Mod.  Well,  sweet  cousin  1 

Helen.  WelH 

You  heard  what  Master  Walter  said  1 
Mod.  I  did. 

Helen.  And  would  you  have  me  marry  1    Can't  you  speak 

Say  yes  or  no. 
Mod.  No,  cousin. 

Helen.  Bravely  said ! 

And  why,  my  gallant  cousin  ? 
Mod.  Why  ? 

Helen.  Ah,  why  ! —  . 

Women,  you  know,  are  fond  of  reasons — why 

Would  you  not  have  me  marry  1     How  you  look ! 

"  Is  it  because  you  do  not  know  the  reason  1" 

You  mind  me  of  a  story  of  a  cousin 

Who  once  her  cousin  such  a  question  asked. 

He  had  not  been  to  college,  though — for  books 

Had  passed  his  time  in  reading  ladies'  eyes, 

Which  he  could  construe  marvellously  well, 

"  Though  writ  in  language  all  symbolical." 

Thus  stood  they  once  together,  on  a  day — 

As  we  stand  now — discoursed  as  we  discourse, — 

"  But  with  this  difference — fifty  gentle  words 

"  He  spoke  to  her  for  one  she  spoke  to  him ! — 

*'  What  a  dear  cousin  !  well,  as  I  did  say," 

As  now  I  questioned  thee  she  questioned  him, 

And  what  was  his  reply  1     To  think  of  it 

Sets  my  heart  beating — 'twas  so  kind  a  one  I 

So  like  a  cousin's  answer — a  dear  cousin  ! 

A  gentle,  honest,  gallant,  loving  cousin  ! 

What  did  he  say  ] 
Mod.  On  my  soul  I  can't  tell. 

Helen.  A  man  might  find  it  out. 

Though  never  read  he  Ovid's  Art  of  Love. 

What  did  he  say  ?    He'd  marry  her  himself ! 

How  stupid  you  are,  cousin  !    Let  me  go ! 
Mod.    You  are  not  well  yet. 
Helen.  Yes. 

Mod.  I'm  sure  you're  not. 

Helen.  I'm  sure  I  am. 
Mod.  Nay,  let  me  hold  you,  cousin ! 

I  like  it. 
Helen  {archly).  Do  you  ?     "I  would  wager  you 

"  You  could  not  tell  me  why  you  like  it.     Well ! 

"  You  see  how  true  I  know  you."     How  you  stare  ! 

What  see  you  in  my  face  to  wonder  at  ? 
Mod.  [with  simplicity).  A  pair  of  eyes  ! 
Helen  (aei^e).  At  last  he'll  find  his  tongu    ! 

(aloud)  And  saw  you  ne'er  a  pair  of  eyes  before  ? 
Mod.   Not  smh  a  pair. 
"  Helen.  And  why  ? 

"  Mod.  They  are  so  bright ! 

"  You  have  a  Grecian  nose." 
Helen.  Indeed  1 

Mod.  Indeed ! 

Helen.  What  kind  of  raouth  have  I  ? 
Moo.  A  handsome  one* 


A.CT  Y.]  THE   HtJNCnBACK.  61 

I  never  saw  so  sweet  a  pair  of  lips  ! 

I  ne'er  saw  lips  at  all  till  now,  dear  cousin 
Helen.  Cousin,  I'm  well— you  need  not  hold  me  now. 

Do  you  not  hear  ?     I  tell  you  1  am  well ! 

1  need  your  arm  no  longer — take't  away  ! 

So  tight  it  locks  me  'tis  with  pain  1  breathe ! 

Let  me  go,  cousin  I    Wherefore  do  you  hold 

Your  face  so  close  to  mine  1     What  do  you  mean  1 
Mod.   You've  questioned  me,  and  now  I'll  question  you. 
Helen.  What  would  you  learn  1 
Mod.  The  use  of  lips  • 

Helen.  To  speak  1 

Mod.  Naught  else  1 
Helen.  "  How  bold  my  modest  cousin  grows  !" 

Why,  other  use  know  you  7 
Mod.  I  do  ? 

Helen.  Indeed ! 

You're  wondrous  wise !    And  pray,  what  is  it  1 
Mod.  This  !  (attempts  to  kiss  her.) 

Helen.  Soft !    My  hand  thanks  you,  cousin — for  my  lips 

I  keep  them  for  a  husband ;  (crosses,  l.)  Nay,  stand  off! 

I'll  not  be  held  in  manacles  again  ! 

Why  do  you  follow  me  1 
Mod.  I  love  you,  cousin  !  (drops  on  his  knees.) 

Helen.  Oh,  cousin,  say  you  so  !    That's  passing  strange! 

"  Falls  out  most  crossly — is  a  dire  mishap — " 

A  thing  to  sigh  for,  weep  for,  languish  for, 

And  die  for ! 
Mod.  Die  for  ?  (rises.) 

Helen.  Yes,  with  laughter,  cousin  ! 

For,  cousiU)  I  love  you ! 
Mod.  And  you'll  be  mine  1 

Helen.  I  will ! 

Mod.  Your  hand  upon  it. 

Helen  (warmly).  Hand  and  heart !  {shaking  with  both  hands 

warmly') 

Hie  to  thy  dressing  room,  and  I'll  to  mine — 

Attire  thee  for  the  altar — so  will  I. 

Whoe'er  may  claim  me,  thou'rt  the  man  shall  have  me. 

Away  !     Dispatch !    But  hark  you,  ere  you  go, 

"  Ne'er  brag  of  reading  Ovid's  Art  of  Love  ! 
"  Mod.  And  cousin !  stop — one  little  word  with  you  !" 

Th£y  part  and  go  nearly  off  when  they  pause  ^  look  back  and  return ;  shake 
hands,  part  again,  pause  and  return  ;  again  shake  hands  and  are  about 
to  part,  when  they  kiss  heartily,  and  with  a  merry  laugh  Helen  runs  off 
L.  D.  Modus,  aa  though  dumbfounded,  stands  looking  about  f&r  a  mo- 
ment, then  takes  book  from  his  bosom,  looks  at  it— suddenly  throws  it 
away,  and  exits  quickly,  E.  D. 

SCENE  III.— Julia's  chamber.* 
Unter  Julia,  c.  d. 
Julia.  No  word  from  him,  and  evening  now  set  in  I 

*  No  chaDge  of  Scenery  in  Union  Square  version. 


Q%  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  V. 

He  cannot  play  me  false  !     His  messenger 

Is  dogged — or  letter  intercepted  !     I'm 

Beset  with  spies  7 — No  rescue  ! — No  escape  ! 

The  hour  at  hand  that  brings  my  bridegroom  home ! 

No  relative  to  aid  me — friend  to  counsel  me !  (a  knock  at  the 

door.') 
"  Come  in. 

"  Enter  Two  Female  Attendants. 

"  Your  will  1 
"  First  Attendant.  Your  toilet  waits,  my  lady, 

"  'Tis  time  you  dress. 
"  Julia.  'Tis  time  I  die !  {a  peal  of  hells)  What's  that  1 

"  Second  Attend.  Your  wedding  bells,  my  lady. 
"  Julia.  Merrily 

"They  ring  my  knell!  (Second  Attendant  presents  an  open 
case)  And  pray  you,  what  are  these  ? 
Second  Attend.  Your  wedding  jewels. 
"  Julia.  Set  them  by. 

"  Second  Attend.  Indeed! 

"  Was  ne'er  a  braver  set !     A  necklace,  brooch, 

"  And  ear-rings  all  of  brilliants — with  a  hoop 

"  To  guard  your  wedding  ring. 
"  Julia.  'Twould  need  a  guard 

"  That  lacks  a  heart  to  keep  it ! 
"  Second  Attend.  Here's  a  heart 

"  Suspended  from  the  necklace — one  huge  diamond 

"  Imbedded  in  a  host  of  smaller  ones  ! 

"  Oh,  how  it  sparkles  ! 
"  Julia.  Show  it  me  !     Bright  heart, 

"  Thy  lustre,  should  I  wear  thee,  will  be  false — 

"  For  thou  the  emblem  art  of  love  and  truth — 

"  From  her  that  wears  thee,  unto  him  that  gives  thee. 

"  Back  to  thy  case  I     Better  thou  ne'er  should'st  leave  it — 

*'  Better  thy  gems  a  thousand  fathoms  deep 

"  In  their  native  mine  again,  than  grace  my  neck, 

"  And  lend  thy  fair  face  to  palm  off  a  lie  ! 
"  FiKST  Attend.  Wilt  please  dress  1 
"Julia.  Ay !  in  infected  clothes, 

"  New  from  a  pest-house  !     Leave  me  !     If  I  dress, 

"  I'll  dress  alone.     Oh,  for  a  friend  !     Time  gallops  ! 

["  Exeunt  Attendants." 

He  that  should  guard  me  is  mine  enemy  ! 

Constrains  me  to  abide  the  fatal  die 

My  rashness,  not  my  reason,  cast.     He  comes, 

That  will  exact  the  forefeit !     Must  I  pay  it  7 

E'en  at  the  cost  of  utter  bankruptcy ! 

What's  to  be  done  7     Pronounce  the  vow  that  parts 

My  body  from  my  soul !     To  what  it  loathes 

Links  that,  while  this  is  linked  to  what  it  loves  ! 

Condemned  to  such  perdition !     What's  to  be  done  1 

Stand  at  the  altar  in  an  hour  from  this  ! 

An  hour  thence  seated  at  his  board — a  wife ! 

Thence  !— frenzy's  in  the  thought !    What's  t6  be  done"? 

Enter  Master  Walteb,  c.  d. 


ACT  v.]  THE    HUNCHBACK.  63 

Walt,  (l  ).  What !  run  the  waves  so  high  1     Art  ready,  Julia  ? 

Your  lord  will  soon  be  here !     The  guests  collect. 
Julia  (r.)-  Show  me  some  way  to  'scape  these  nuptials  !     Do  it ! 

Some  opening  for  avoidance  or  escape — 

Or  to  thy  charge  I'll  lay  a  broken  heart ! 

It  may  be,  broken  vows  and  blasted  honor ! 

Or  else  a  mind  distraught ! 
Walt.  What's  this  1 

Julia.  The  strait 

I'm  fallen  into  my  patience  cannot  bear  ! 

It  frights  my  reason — warps  my  sense  of  virtue  ! 

Religion !  changes  me  into  a  thing 

I  look  at  with  abhorring  ! 
Walt.  (l.  c).  Listen  to  me! 

Julia  (c).  Listen  to  me  and  heed  me  !     If  this  contract 

Thou  hold'st  me  to,  abide  thou  the  result ! 

Answer  to  Heaven  for  what  I  suffer ! — act ! 

Prepare  thyself  for  such  a  calamity 

To  fall  on  me,  and  those  whose  evil  stars 

Have  linked  them  with  me,  as  no  past  mishap, 

However  rare  and  marvellously  sad, 

Can  parallel !     Lay  thy  account  to  live 

A  smileless  life,  die  an  unpitied  death — 

Abhorred,  abandoned  of  their  kind — as  one 

Who  had  the  guarding  of  a  young  maid's  peace- 
Looked  on,  and  saw  her  rashly  peril  it ; — 

And,  when  she  owned  her  danger  and  confessed 

Her  fault,  compelled  her  to  complete  her  ruin ! 
Walt.  Hast  done  1 
Julia.  Another  moment  and  I  have. 

Be  warned  !     Beware  how  you  abandon  me 

To  myself  !    I'm  young,  rash,  inexperienced  !  tempted 

By  most  insufferable  misery  ! 

Bold,  desperate,  and  reckless  !     Thou  hast  age. 

Experience,  wisdom,  and  collectedness — 

Power,  freedom — everything  that  I  have  not, 

Yet  want  as  none  e'er  wanted !     Thou  can'st  save  me  ! 

Thou  ought'st !  thou  must  I     I  tell  thee,  at  his  feet 

I'll  fall  a  corse,  ere  mount  his  bridal  bed ! 

So  choose  betwixt  my  rescue  and  my  grave ; 

And  quickly  too !     The  hour  of  sacrifice 

Is  near  !     Anon  the  immolating  priest 

Will  summon  me  !     Devise  some  speedy  means 

To  cheat  the  altar  of  its  victim  !     Do  it ! 

Nor  leave  the  act  to  me  ! 
Walt.  Hast  done ! 

Julia.  I  have. 

Walt.  Then  list  to  me — and  silently,  if  not 

With  patience,  {brings  chairs  for  himself  and  her  ;  she  c,  heB..  o.) 
Sit  down. 

How  I  watched  thee  from  thy  childhood 

I'll  not  recall  to  thee.     Thy  father's  wisdom — 

Whose  humble  instrument  I  was — directed 

Your  nonage  should  be  passed  in  privacy, 

From  your  apt  mind,  that  far  outstripped  your  years, 

Fearing  the  taint  of  an  infected  world; — 

"For,  in  the  rich  ground,  weeds,  once  taking  root, 


64  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCT  V. 

"  Grow  strong  as  flowers."     He  might  be  right  or  wrong  ! 
I  thought  him  right,  and  therefore  did  his  bidding. 
Most  certainly  he  loved  you — so  do  I ; 
Ay  !  well  as  I  had  been  myself  your  father  ! 

His  hand  is  resting/  upon  his  knee,  Julia  attempts  to  take  it — he  withdraws 
it — looks  at  her — she  hangs  her  head. 

Well,  you  may  take  my  hand !     I  need  not  say 
How  fast  you  grew  in  knowledge  and  in  goodness — 
That  hope  could  scarce  enjoy  its  golden  dreams, 
So  soon  fulfillment  realized  them  all ! 
Enough.     You  came  to  womanhood.    Your  heart, 
Pure  as  the  leaf  of  the  consummate  bud 
That's  new  unfolded  by  the  smiUng  sun, 
And  nei'er  knew  blight  or  canker  ! 

"  She  attempts  to  place  her  other  hand  on  his  shoulder — he  leani  from  her — 
looks  at  her — she  hangs  her  head  again. 

'  Put  it  there  ! 

'■'  Where  left  I  off  ?    I  know !"     When  a  good  woman 

Is  fitly  mated,  she  grows  doubly  good, 

How  good  so  e'er  before  !     I  found  the  man 

I  thought  a  match  for  thee ;  and  soon  as  found, 

Proposed  him  to  thee.     'Twas  your  father's  will, 

Occasion  offering,  you  should  be  married 

Soon  as  you  reached  to  womanhood  ;  you  liked 

My  choice — accepted  him.     We  came  to  town ; 

Where,  by  important  matter,  summoned  thence, 

1  left  you  an  affianced  bride  ! 
.  Julia.  You  did  ! 

You  did  !  (leans  her  head  upon  her  Jmtids  and  weeps.) 
Walt.  Nay,  check  thy  tears  !     Let  judgment  now, 

Not  passion,  be  awake.     On  my  return, 

I  found  thee — what  1     I'll  not  describe  the  thing 

I  found  thee  then.     I'll  not  describe  my  pangs 

To  see  thee  such  a  thing  !     The  engineer 

Who  lays  the  last  stone  of  his  sea-built  tower. 

It  cost  him  years  and  years  of  toil  to  raise — 

And,  smiling  at  it,  tells  the  winds  and  waves 

To  roar  and  whistle  now — and,  in  a  night, 

Beholds  the  tempest  sporting  in  its  place — 

Might  look  aghast,  as  I  did  ! 
Julia  [falling  on  her  knees').  Pardon  me ! 

Forgive  me  !  pity  me  ! 
Walt.  Resume  thy  seat,  {raises  her) 

I  pity  thee ;  perhaps  not  thee  alone 

It  fits  to  sue  for  pardon. 
Julia.  Me  alone  I 

None  other ! 
"  Walt.  But  to  vindicate  myself, 

"  I  name  thy  lover's  stern  desertion  of  thee. 

"What  wast  thou  then  with  wounded  pride?    A  thing 

"  To  leap  into  a  torrent !  throw  itself 

"  From  a  precipice!  rush  into  fire  !     I  saw 

'*  Thy  madness— knew  to  thwart  it  were  to  chafe  it— 


ACT  v.]  THE    HUNCHBACK.  65 

**  And  humored  it  to  take  that  course,  I  thought, 

"  Adopted,  lest  'twould  rue  ! 
"Julia.  'Tvvas  wisely  done. 

"Walt.  At  least,  'twas  for  the  best. 
"Julia  'Kp  blame  thee  for  it, 

"  Was  adding  shame  to  shame  !'^     But,  Master  Walter ! 

These  nuptials — must  they  needs  go  on  \ 

"  Utiter  Servant,  l.  u.  e. 
"  Serv.  More  guests 

"  Arrive. 
"Walt.  Attend  to  them.  [Hxit  Servant,  l. 

'•  Julia.  Dear  Master  Walter, 

"  Is  there  no  way  to  escape  these  nuptials  ?" 
Walt.  Know'st  not 

What  with  these  nuptials  comes  1     Hast  thou  forgot  1 
Julia.  What? 

Walt.  Nothing — I  did  tell  thee  of  a  thing. 

Julia.  What  was  it '? 
Walt.  To  forget  it  was  a  fault ! 

Look  back  and  think. 
Julia.  I  can't  remember  it. 

Walt,  (up  from  chair,  mide).  Fathers,  make  straws  yonr  children  ! 
Nature's  nothing ! 

Blood  nothing  !     Once  in  other  veins  it  runs. 

It  no  more  yearneth  for  the  parent  flood, 

Than  doth  the  stream  that  from  the  source  disparts. 

"  Talk  not  of  love  instinctive — what  you  call  so 

"  Is  but  the  brat  of  custom  !     Your  own  flesh 

"  By  habit  only  cleaves  to  you — without, 

"  Hath  no  adhesion  !"  [aloud)  So,  you  have  forgot 

You  have  a  father,  and  are  here  to  meet  him  1 
Julia.  I'll  not  deny  it. 

Walt.  You  should  blush  for't. 

Julia.  No ! 

No  !  no !  dear  Master  Walter  !  what's  a  father 

That  you've  not  been   to  me  ^  {he  turns  his  hack  to  her)  Nay, 
turn  not  from  me  ! 

For  at  the  name  a  holy  awe  I  own, 

That  now  almost  inclines  my  knee  to  earth  ! 

But  thou  to  me,  except  a  father's  name. 

Hast  all  the  father  been  ;  the  care — the  love — 

The  guidance— the  protection  of  a  father ! 

Can' St  wonder,  then,  if  like  thy  child  I  feel, 

And  feeling  so,  that  father's  claim  forget, 

Whom  ne'er  I  knew,  save  by  the  name  of  one  1 

Oh,  turn  to  me  and  do  not  chide  me  !  or 

If  thou  wilt  chide,  chide  on  !  but  turn  to  me  ! 
Walt,  {struggling  with  emotion).  My  Julia  !  {weeping  — he  holds  out  his 

hand  to  her  ;  site  eagerly  takes  it.) 
Julia.  Now,  dear  ^Master  Walter,  hear  me  ! 

Is  there  no  way  to  'scape  these  nuptials  7 
Walt.  Julia, 

A  promise  made  admits  not  of  release, 

■'  Save  by  consent  or  forfeiture  of  those 

"Who  hold  it  " — so  it  should  be  pondered  well 

"  Before  we  let  it  go."     Ere  man  should  say 


b6  THE    HUNCHBACK.  [aCI  V. 

I  broke  the  word  I  had  the  power  to  keep, 
I'd  lose  the  life  I  had  the  power  to  part  with ! 
Remember,  Julia,  thou  and  I  to-day, 
Must  to  thy  father  of  thy  training  render 
A  strict  account.     While  honor's  left  to  us, 
We've  something — ^nothing,  having  all  but  that 
Now  for  thy  last  act  of  obedience,  Julia  ! 
Present  thyself  before  thy  bridegroom  !  {she  assents)  Good  ! 
My  Julia's  now  herself !     Show  him  thy  heart, 
And  to  his  honor  leave 't  to  set  thee  free. 
Or  hold  thee  bound.     They  come,  they  come  !*    Thy  father 
will  be  by  !  {Music.)  [Exeunt  severally. 

"  SCENE  III.— The  banqueting  room.1- 
"  Enter  Master  Walter  and  Master  Hbartwell. 

"  Heart.  Thanks,  Master  Walter  !     Ne'er  was  child  more  bent 
"  To  do  her  father's  will,  you'll  own,  than  mine  • 
"  Yet  never  one  more  froward. 

"  Walt.  All  runs  fair — 

"  Fair  may  all  end.     To-day  you'll  learn  the  cause 
"  That  took  me  out  of  town.     But  soft  awhile, 
"  Here  comes  the  bridegroom  with  his  friends,  and  here 
"  The  all-obedient  bride." 

Enter  "  on  one  hand  Julia,  and  on  the  other, ^^  Lord  Rochdale,  with  Lord 
Tinsel  and  friends ;  afterwards  Clifford,  c.  d. 

RocH.  (c).  Is  she  not  fair ! 

Tin.     (l).  She'll  do.     Your  servant,  lady  !     Master  Walter, 

We're  glad  to  see  you.     Sirs,  you're  welcome  all ! 

What  wait  they  for  ?     Are  we  to  wed  or  not  1 

We're  ready — why  don't  they  present  the  bride? 

I  hope  they  know  she  is  to  wed  an  earl. 
RocH.  Should  I  speak  first  1 
Tin.  Not  for  your  coronet ! 

I,  as  your  friend,  may  make  the  first  advance. 

We're  come  here  to  be  married.     Where's  the  bride  1 
Walt.  There  stands  she.  Lord.     If  'tis  her  will  to  wed, 

His  Lordship's  free  to  take  her. 
Tin.  Not  a  step ! 

I,  as  your  friend,  may  lead  her  to  your  Lordship. 

Fair  lady,  by  your  leave  !  {crosses  to  her.) 
Julia.  No,  not  to  you  ! 

Tin.     I  ask  your  hand  to  give  it  to  his  Lordship. 
Julia.  Nor  to  his  Lordship— save  he  will  accept 

My  hand  without  my  heart !  '•  but  I'll  present 

"  My  knee  to  him,  and  by  his  lofty  rank — 

"  Implore  him  now  to  do  a  lofty  deed 

"  Will  lift  its  stately  h-ad  above  his  rank — 

•'  Assert  him  nobler  yet  in  worth  than  name — 


*  lu  repre.seutation,  "  they  cjiuu,  they  coraol"  is  inserted  as  above,  and  there  is 
no  succeeding  change  of  Scene— all  the  verses  and  directions  marked  with  inverted 
commas  being  omitted.    Hearlweli  should  enter  with  the  friends  of  the  bride. 

t  No  change  of  Scene  in  the  Union  Square  version. 


ACT  v.]  THE    niXNCHBACK.  67 

"  And  in  the  place  of  an  unwilling  bride, 

"  Unto  a  willing  debtor  make  liim  lord — 

"  Whose  thanks  shall  be  his  vassals,  night  and  day, 

"  That  still  shall  wait  upon  him  !" 
Ti.v.  What  means  this  1  {crosses,  l.) 

Julia.  What  is't  behoves  a  wife  to  bring  her  lord  ? 
Walt.  A  whole  heart,  and  a  true  one. 
Julia.  I  have  none  ! 

Not  half  a  heart — the  fraction  of  a  heart ! 

Am  I  a  woman  it  befits  to  wed  1 
Walt.  Why,  where's  thy  heart  ? 
Julia.  Gone — out  of  my  keeping  ! 

Lost — past  recovery  !  "  right  and  title  to  it — 

"  And  all  given  up  !"  and  he  that's  owner  on't, 

So  fit  to  wear  it,  were  it  fifty  hearts 

I'd  give  it  to  him  all ! 
Walt.  Thou  dost  not  mean 

His  Lordship's  secretary  1 
Julia.  Yes.    Away 

Disguises  !     In  that  secretary  know 

The  master  of  the  heart,  of  which  the  poor, 

Unvalued,  empty  casket  at  your  feet — 

Its  jewel  gone — I  now  despairing  throw  !  (kneels) 

"  Of  his  lord's  bride  he's  lord  !  lord  paramount ! 

"  To  whom  her  virgin  homage  first  she  paid — 

"  'Gainst  whom  rebelled  in  frowardness  alone — 

"  Nor  knew  herself  how  loyal  to  him  till 

"  Another  claim'd  her  duty — then  awoke 

'*  To  sense  of  all  she  owed  him — all  his  worth — 

"  And  all  her  undeservings  !" 
Walt.  Rise,  my  Julia !  (raises  her.) 

Tin.     Lady,  we  come  not  here  to  treat  of  hearts — 

But  marriage  ;  which,  so  please  you,  is  with  us 

A  simple  joining  by  the  priest  of  hands  ; 

A  ring's  put  on  ;  a  prayer  or  two  is  said ; 

You're  man  and  wife— and  nothing  more  !     For  hearts 

We  oft'ner  do  without  than  with  them,  lady ! 
Clif.    So  does  not  wed  this  lady,  (advances,  c.     Julia  ffoes  to  him  as 

for  protection. ) 
Tin.  Who  are  you  1 

Clif.    I'm  secretary  to  the  Earl  of  Rochdale. 
Tin.     My  Lord '? 
RocH.  I  know  him  not. 

Tin.  I  know  him  now — 

Your  Lordship's  rival  !    Once  Sir  Thomas  Clifford. 
Clip.   Ay,  sir  ;  and  once  this  lady's  bridegroom — who 

Then  loved  her — loves  her  still  ! 
Julia.  Was  loved  by  her — 

Though  then  she  knew  it  not ! — is  loved  by  her, 

As  now  she  knows,  and  all  the  world  may  know  ! 
Tin.     We  can't  be  laughed  at.     We  are  here  to  wed, 

And  shall  fulfill  our  contract. 
Julia.  Clifford ! 

Clif.  Julia ! 

You  will  not  give  your  hand  ?  (a  pause — Julia  seems  utterly  lost.) 
Walt.  You  have  forgot 

Again.     You  have  a  father ! 


68  THE   HUNCHBACK.  [a.CT  Y. 

Julia.  Bring  him  now— 

To  see  thy  Julia  justify  thy  training, 

And  lay  her  life  down  to  redeem  ker  word  ! 
Walt.  And  so  redeems  her  all !  {crosses,  c.)  Is  it  your  will, 

My  Lord,  these  nuptials  should  go  on  ? 
RocH.  (l.  c).  It  is. 

Walt.  Then  is  it  mine  they  stop ! 
Tin.  I  told  your  Lordship 

You  should  not  keep  a  hunchback  for  your  agent. 
Walt.  (c.  ).  Thought  like  ray  father,  my  good  Lord,  who  said 

He  would  not  have  a  hunchback  for  his  son — 

So  do  I  pardon  you  the  savage  slight ! 

My  Lord,  that  I  am  not  as  straight  as  you 

Was  blemish  neither  of  my  thought  nor  will, 

"  My  head  nor  heart.     It  was  no  act  of  mine  "— 

Yet  did  it  curdle  nature's  kindly  milk 

E'en  where  'tis  richest — in  a  parent's  breast — 

To  cast  me  out  to  heartless  fosterage — 

Not  heartless  always,  as  it  proved — and  give 

My  portion  to  another  !  "  the  same  blood— 

"  But  I'll  be  sworn,  in  vein,  my  Lord,  and  soul — 

"  Although  his  trunk  did  swerve  no  more  than  yours— 

"  Not  half  so  straight  as  I. 
"  Tin.  Upon  my  life, 

"  You've  got  a  modest  agent,  Rochdale  !     Now 

"  He'll  prove  himself  descended — mark  my  words — 

"  From  some  small  gentleman  ! 
"  Walt.  And  so  you  thought, 

"  Where  nature  played  the  churl,  it  would  be  fit 

"  That  fortune  played  it  too.     You  would  have  had 

*'  My  Lord  absolve  me  from  my  agency ! 

"  Fair  Lord,  the  flaw  did  cost  me  fifty  times — 

"  A  hundred  times  my  agency ;" — but  all's 

Recovered.     Look,  my  Lord,  a  testament  {shows  will) 

To  make  a  pension  of  his  Lordship's  rent  roll ! 

It  is  my  father's,  and  was  left  by  him, 

In  case  his  heir  should  die  without  a  son, 

Then  to  be  opened.     Heaven  did  send  a  son 

To  bless  the  heir.     Heaven  took  its  gift  away. 

He  died — his  father  died.     And  Master  Walter — 

The  unsiohtly  agent  of  his  Lordship  there — 

The  hunchback  whom  your  Lordship  would  have  stripped 

Of  his  agency — is  now  the  Earl  of  Rochdale !  {^general  movement 
of  mirprise.) 
Julia.  The  Earl  of  Rochdale ! 
Walt  And  what  of  that  T    Thou  know'st  not  half  my  greatness  ! 

A  prouder  title,  Julia,  have  I  yet. 

Sooner  than  part  with  which,  I'd  give  that  up 

And  be  again  plain  Master  Walter,     What ! 

Dost  thou  not  apprehend  me  T    Yes,  thou  dost ! 

Command  thyself— don't  gasp  !     My  pupil — daughter! 

Come  to  thy  father's  heart !  (Julia  rushes  into  his  arms,) 
Tin.     We've  made  a  small  mistake  here.     Never  mind, 

'Tis  nothing  for  a  lord. 

Enter  Fathom,  hurriedly,  c,  p. 


KCT  v.]  THE    HUNCHBACK.  69 

Fatu    Thieveiy  !     Elopement — escape — arrest! 

Walt.  What's  the  matter  ? 

Path  Mistress  Helen  is  running  away  with  Master  Modus — Master 
Modus  is  running  away  with  Mistress  Helen — but  we  have  caught  them, 
secured  them,  and  here  they  come,  to  receive  the  reward  of  their 
merits. 

Enter  Helen  and  Modus,  c.  d.,.  foUmoed  by  Servants. 

Helen.  I'll  ne'er  wed  man,  if  not  my  cousin  Modus. 

Mod.  Nor  woman  I,  save  cousin  Helen's  she. 

Walt,  (to  Heartwell).  A  daughter  and  a  nephew  has  my  friend, 
Without  their  match  in  duty  !     You  shall  marry. 
{to  Rochdale)  For  you,  sir,  who  to-day  have  lost  an  earldom, 
Yet  would  have  shared  that  earldom  with  my  child — 
My  only  one — content  yourself  with  prospect 
Of  the  succession — it  must  fall  to  you —  ; 

And  fit  yourself  to  grace  it.     Ape  not  those  .* 

Who  rank  by  pride.     The  man  of  simplest  bearing 
Is  yet  a  lord  when  he's  a  lord  indeed ! 

''  Tin.  The  paradox  is  obsolete.     Ne'er  heed  ! 

"Learn  from  his  book,  and  practise  out  of  mine. 

"  Walt."  Sir  Thomas  Clifford,  take  my  daughter's  hand 
If  now  you  know  the  master  of  her  heart ; 
Give  it,  my  Julia !     You  suspect,  I  see — 
And  rightly — there  has  been  some  masking  here. 
Well,  you  shall  know  anon  how  keeps  Sir  Thomas 
His  baronetcy  still — and,  for  myself, 
How  jealousy  of  my  mis-shapen  back 
Made  me  mistrustful  of  a  child's  affections, 
Although  I  won  a  wife's — so  that  I  dropped 
The  title  of  thy  father,  lest  thy  duty  ^ 

Should  pay  the  debt  thy  love  alone  could  solve. 
All  this  and  more,  that  to  thy  friends  and  thee 
Pertains,  at  fitting  time  thou  shalt  be  told. 
But  now  thy  nuptials  wait— the  happy  close 
Of  thy  hard  trial — wholesome,  though  severe  1 
The  world  won't  cheat  thee  now— thy  heart  is  proved 
Thou  know'st  thy  peace  by  finding  out  its  bane, 
And  ne'er  wilt  act  from  reckless  impulse  more  ! 

Disposition  of  Characters  at  the  fall  of  the  Curtain. 

Clifford.  Julla. 

Helen.  Walter. 

Modus.  Eochdale. 

Heartweli..  Tinsel 

B.  L. 

CUBTAIN. 


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Member  of  the  American  Dramatists'  Club. 

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Time  OF  PLAITING:    Two  and  one-half  hours. 
COSTUMES:  Moderno 


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Author  of  ''The  Betiejit  of  the  Doubt,''  ''The  Profligate,'' 
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THE  BENEFIT      \ 
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I  every  ambitious  actor. 

\  I  CONTENTS. 

.Chapter  I.    General  Remarks. 

Chapter  II.     Qrease-Palnts.  their  orlsrin,  components  and  use. 

T, 'Chapter  III.  The  Make-up  Box.  Grease-Paints,  Mirrors,  Face  Powder  and 
wSff  Exora  Cream,  Rouge,  Liquid  Color,  Grenadine,  Blue  for  the  Eyelids, 
c^llliantine  for  the  Hair,  Nose  Putty,  Wig  Paste,  Mascaro,  Crape  Hair, 
Q^^rii  Gum,  Scissors,   Artists'  Stomps,  Cold  Cream.  Cocoa  Butter,  Recipes  for 

-iphapter  IV.     Preliminaries  before  Making  up;  tlie  Straiglit  Make-ap 
<d  liow  to  remove  it.  .,  _  _  ^,       „     • 

P '  Chapter  V.    Remarks  to  Ladies.     Liquid  Creams,  Rouge,  Lips.  Eyebrows. 
•^^Felashes,  Character  Roles,  Jewelry,  Removing  Make-up. 
VoDhapter   VL      Juveniles.     Straight    Juvenile    Make-up,    Society    Men, 
cSungMenlnlU  Health,  with  Red  Wigs,  Rococo  Make-up,  Hands,  Wrists, 

/jeeks  etc 
v,bhapter  VIL     Adults,  Middle  Aged,  and  Old  Men.     Ordinary  Type  of 
gj-nhood,  Lining  Colors,   Wrinkles,  Rouge.  Sickly  and  Healthy  Old  Ag^ 

rddy  Complexions.  ^        ^     ^«    . 

rvi'hapter  VIII.       Comedy  and  Character  Make-ups.       Comedy  Effects, 

r.gs,  Beards,  Eyebrows,  Noses,  Lips,  Pallor  of  Death.        ,  ^     „ 

Vv^apter  IX.    The  Human  Features.     The  Mouth  and  Lips,  the  Eyes  and 

relids,  the  Nose,  the  Chin,  the  Ear,  the  Teeth. 

f  Chapter  X.    Other  Exposed  Parts  of  the  Human  Anatomy. 

0  !hapter  XI.     Wigs,    Beards,    Moustaches,    and    Eyebrows     Choosing 

1  oWig,  Powdering  the  Hair,  Dimensions  for  Wigs,  Wig  Bands,  Bald  Wigs, 
mpiies'  Wigs,  Beards  on  Wire,  on  Gauze,    Crape  Hair,  Wool,  Beards  foi 

Amps,  Moustaches,  Eyebrows.  _,  .    .         ..,  _.,. 

Ar?hapter  XIL       Distinctive    and    Traditional    Characteristics.     >orth 

(  rjr.erican  Indians,  Kew  England  Farmers,  Hoosiers,  Southerners,  Politicians. 

I  rnrV'boys,  Miuers.  Quakers,   Tramps,  Creoles,  Mulatoes,  Quadroons.   Octo- 

fin.ns,  Kegroes,  Soldiers  duringWar,  Soldiers  during  Peace,  Scouts,    Path- 

^"  iers,  Puritans,  Early  Dutch  Settlers,  Englishmen,  Scotchmen,  Irishmen, 

S  eininchmen,  Italians,  Spaniards,   Portuguese.  South  Americans,  Scandina- 

'MnAs,  Germans,  Hollanders,  Hungarians,  Gipsies,  Russians,  Turks,  Arabs. 

1  ^At)rs,  Caffirs,  Abysslnlans,  Hindoos,  Malays,  Chinese,  Japanese,  Clowns  and 

J      .uary,  Hebrews,  Drunkards,  Lunatics,  Idiots,  Misers,  Rogues, 

(Address  Orders  to 
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CHICAGO.  ILLINOIS. 


PLAYS. 


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number  of  characters,  time  of  playing,  scenei 
costumes,  etc.  This  catalogue  will  be  sent  ^1 
on  application. 

The  plays  described  are  suitable  for  a; 
ateurs  and  professionals,  and  nearly  all  of  the 
may  be  performed  free  of  royalty.  Persons 
terested  in  dramatic  books  should  examine 
catalogue  before  ordering  elsewhere. 

The  Dramatic  Publishing  Compaky* 

CHICAGO. 


Gaylamount 

Pamphlet 

Binder 

Gaylord  Bros..  Inc. 

Stockton,  Calif. 
T.  M.Reg.  U.S.  Pat.  Otf. 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 

CD20flS7MMa 


iviJi900f>9 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  UBRARY 


